


If I Let Go Of Control

by alexxxford



Series: Last Hope [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-01-04 01:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexxxford/pseuds/alexxxford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek can't lie to themselves about their feelings, but they sure as hell can lie to each other about them!</p><p> </p><p>(Can be read alone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you'll all enjoy this part :) As always feedback's appreciated!

**47..48..49..50.**   
  
Derek let go of the bar that was nailed across the doorway of his bedroom, letting himself drop right down to the wooden floor below to begin his push ups.   
  
**1..2..3..4..**  
  
Peter regards him from the couch with lazy interest. "Trying to impress someone?" He asks, tossing a grape in the air and catching it in his mouth.   
  
**49..50**  
  
Derek rolls onto his back. Sit-ups.   
  
"Huh?" He asks, trying to ignore his uncle who was obviously trying to wind him up.   
  
"Your workout routine? It's trebled since you go back from.. wherever it was you went. Hey why didn't you tell me about that anyway?"  
  
"I didn't tell you because I don't trust you"  
  
Peter huffs but ignores that last comment "And the girl?"  
  
"What girl?"  
  
"The one that's gotten under your skin so bad? You can't hide it from me, I see everything"  
  
Derek jumped up onto his feet, grabbing his hoody from the hook and his iPod from the counter.   
  
"I don't know what you're on about" he lies and is out the door jogging away before Peter has a chance to say anymore.   
He's not working out to impress anyone, he's working out because he can't possibly wank anymore and my god he's become insatiable. He can only imagine this is what heat is like but ten times worse. Thank god he's not a bitch!  
  
5 miles he thinks, but the fabric of his track suit bottoms rubbing against his crotch is already giving him a semi. Better make it 10.   
  
He shoves his earbuds in and cranks up the volume. Rage Against the Machine. Not exactly his usual but good to run to.   
  
As a werewolf he can run longer, harder, faster than humans, but he can still push himself to the limit. To the point where his legs start to feel weak and his lungs seem to burn because he can't supply them with quite enough oxygen for their increased need. This is when his mind finally goes blank and he's focusing on the run and not any one of the thousand other things that he has on his mind worrying him every other minute if the day.   
It also serves as a way to dull down his werewolf hyper-senses, because when he's stressed or preoccupied he forgets to not hear everything and smell everything and it becomes too over-powering.   
Today his little trick doesn't seem to be working because he picks up on Scott's scent and he just can't get rid of it.   
His paces slow and he looks around. It's dark now, completely and despite setting off nearly an hour ago in the opposite direction he's ended up subconsciously opposite Stiles house.   
  
Doubling over he rests his hands on his knees and concentrates on sucking in deep, slow breaths.  He can’t stop himself from hearing everything that’s going on in that house.

 _"Do you ever wonder if the weathers being controlled? Y'know, by a witch or something?"_ Stiles asks, presumably referring to the sudden rise again in temperature, even though the summers nearly over. Derek surprises himself by smiling.

Stiles speaks again. _"Fratricidal four year war..?"_  
  
"61-65?"  
  
"...?"  
  
"1861 - 1865. And I hadn't really thought about it"

_“You must wonder what else is out there?”_

Scott pauses _“No. I just… I don’t wanna know_ ” he laughs. _“Is that the time? Crap, I’ve gotta go! I told Allison I’d be over at 6, man, I’m gonna be so late. Ill see you tomorrow evening though, at Derek's?'_  
  
There's a pause. _'Derek's?'_  
  
 _'Movie night?'_  Derek’s raising his eyebrows. Crap, he’d forgotten he’d agreed to that.  
  
 _'Oh. Okay, yeah'_  
  
 _'Apparently Erica's dead set on it being her turn to pick the film so Isaac says bring comics or something!'_  
  
Stiles laughs but Derek can tell it’s only polite, his thoughts are elsewhere.   
  
_'Allison invited Lydia, that's not a problem right? I mean, I totally told her she shouldn't of but she said you'd be cool with it and I-.. are you? We could un-invi-'_  
  
 _'Dude it's fine! We're cool. I mean, I think it's good we finally kissed because it answered so many questions. Like, we're totally better off as just friends'  
  
'Yeah. Alright, I'll catch ya tomorrow then?'  
  
'Yeah Seeya Scott!'_  
  
The front door slams shut. It's the other side of the road, 20 feet from Derek but it sounds like a gunshot by his ear. He flinches. Scott is whistling as he hops onto his bike and disappears before he has a chance to pick up on his Alphas presence.   
Derek stays rooted to the spot. He knows he should leave now but he can hear Stiles heartbeat like a drum. It's fast and erratic. But why?  
He pushes the off button silencing his iPod in his pocket so he can hear Stiles muttering to himself.   
  
_'Calm down Stiles. Everything's alright. Everything's gonna be okay. Just breath. Right. Breathing. Breathing. In. Out'_  
  
If Derek wasn't worried he would have laughed because my god, even when he's alone the boy talks non-stop.   
He takes it upon himself to circle the house, sniffing out any potential threats. Y'know, because he's the Alpha, and Stiles is pack. He'd do it for any of them. In fact maybe once he's done here he'll go and check on another member..  
  
Except he won't. He knows he won't. There's no point in lying to himself.   
There's no sign of danger anywhere by the Stilinski house but he can still hear Stiles inside freaking out. He contemplates just knocking on the door to see what the hell is going on until he hears a switch and the shower roaring into life upstairs.   
He sighs and settles against the wall. He'll just wait five more minutes, to be safe. Then he's running home.   
  
He waits for 7 minutes. That's enough. He's just flicking through his iPod to select a song to run home to when he realizes Stiles heartbeat has picked up again. Considerably.   
  
85... 90 bpm. He's freaking out. Derek can hear him cursing. 'Shit. Shiiiit!' And without thinking Derek steps back and leaps with an elegant ease straight through Stiles bedroom window. He follows the sound of Stiles heartbeat and bursts through the door at the end of the corridor.  Stiles is still in the shower and having Derek burst in on him sends his heart rate up to a peak of 120 as he screams and ceremoniously grabs the shower curtain to cover himself in such a hurry it rips clean off the rail. The small plastic hooks scatter across the bathroom floor as the last of Stiles spunk winds down the plug hole.   
  
"Derek!" He gasps. Rightly shocked. "What-the-hell! Is there a problem?" His cheeks and the peak of his nose are rosey and droplets of water roll off his chin and clings to his eyelashes.   
  
"You tell me! I've been trying to run but all I can hear is you freaking out and then you started swearing and I thought.." He trails off, gesturing to Stiles and the shower and what had obviously been the cause of Stiles tachycardia. Derek can feel heat rising in his cheeks at the terrible mistake he's just made.   
  
Stiles cocks his head to the side. "Yeah I was panicking because my dads working the first night since we've been back and I didn't really wanna spend the night alone. I was trying to.. calm myself down.. wait were you lurking outside my house?!" And suddenly a smile is tugging at the corner of Stiles mouth. The lopsided smile that is so uniquely Stiles that Derek is sure he could paint it with his eyes closed because it’s so imprinted on his brain.   
  
Derek's not sure what to do with all these overwhelming feelings and emotions, so he does the only thing he knows how and converts them into anger.   
  
"Stiles this isn't funny! I thought there was a genuine emergency!"  
  
But Stiles control is wavering. "Wait wait" he grins. "Are you gonna run in every time I have a wank? Because I did not sign up for that!" he's giggling now, chewing his lip in a failed attempt to hold it.   
  
"Shut up Stiles! You're lucky I don't kick you out the pack" Derek growls and storms from the bathroom.   
  
"What? Why?" Stiles scrabbles and replaces his shower curtain toga for a towel and jogs after him.   
  
Derek his stood at his window glaring. "You know what they say about the boy who cried wolf, if there really was a problem I wouldn't know" he throws his arms up exasperated but all Stiles resolves has gone and he's doubled over with laughter.   
  
"Cried... _wolf_ " he chokes out. "You didn't just-"  
  
Derek folds and unfolds his arms across his chest angrily and glares at Stiles. "I'm going" he announces and turns for the window but Stiles manages to stop laughing long enough to hop forwards and grab his arm. He freezes.  
  
"Wait! No Der.. I'm sorry I-"  
  
But Derek just wants to get out of there. He’s embarrassed to say the least, a feeling he's not used to, but worse than that is he can't even breath because the whole room just smells of Stiles sex and if he actually inhales he's just going to jump him. To say he was hard wouldn’t do it justice, thank god for baggy tracksuit bottoms because there’s no way to explain this.  
  
"I didn't mean.. I appreciate the sentiment, y'know." Stiles rubs the back of his neck and shrugs.  
  
"Just... doing my job" Derek shrugs, eyeing the window and his escape.   
  
"Well.. you're welcome to stay..?"  
  
Derek swallows. It's ridiculously awkward now and Stiles is still only wearing a towel and he's being totally cool about the fact he just broke into his house and walked in on him in the shower and Derek's self-control is wavering.   
  
"Nope! I've er.. gotta go. Thanks anyway" and without waiting for Stiles response he's out of there, leaping straight from the window and hurrying home, not even bothering to put his music on.  
He crashes through the front door a short while later. He heads straight to the kitchen, filling himself a glass of water, draining it and filling another. He lets his breathing return to somewhere near normal, and turns to leave, jumping when he see’s Peter leant in the doorway, blocking his exit.

“Stiles”

Derek chokes. “What?” 

Peter smiles at him smugly. “Stiles is who you’re after, I can smell him all over you. I have to admit, I’m surprised, and yes I may be a little… _unstable_ at times but I’m not homophobic. I just didn’t see you at the type. You’re so.. _uptight?”_

“Just because I smell of him.. I saw him and Scott, I stopped to say hello.” Derek shrugs trying to play it cool but he’s not even convincing himself because god he is so not ready to be having this conversation with anyone, let alone Peter.

Peter just laughs wickedly. “Just said hello? Because I can’t _smell_ hello”

Derek takes a deep breath and barges past his uncle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” he yells over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

“Good! Because the kid deserves better!” Peter calls back and Derek stops dead. He wishes he didn’t, _don’t even humor him!_ But it had worked, Derek had got his attention. “H’s human Stiles, and he wants to fall in love, there’s nothing you can offer him. You’re too broken. You’ll only hurt him and you know it”

He sucks in a breath, curling his hands into fists.

"You can go!" He yells as he takes the stairs two at a time. Peter laughs cruelly but seconds later he hears the front door.   
  
Once in his room he strips aggressively, then regrets his carelessness and folds his clothes neatly because living in a burnt down house aside he's still a clean freak, and storms into the shower, flicking the dial down to the coldest setting and bracing himself against the icy water.   
  
He breaths heavy, splaying his hands out against the white tiles walls of the shower and resting his forehead between them a groan escapes from his lips, low and heavy.   
  
"Calm it" he orders himself, but he's never been the one to follow orders, even his own.   
  
He pushes off the wall, tilting his head back, letting the rush of cold water hit the have if his throat and roll down his torso and over his erection which didn't seem to even be affected by the arctic temperatures he was subjecting it to.   
It was kind of painful, but Derek kind of liked that. It kind of turned him on even more.   
  
He couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to Stiles. He'd made such a total fool of himself, barging in on him in the shower. Stiles however had taken it all in his stride. He adapted to every situation. Every person. How did he do that?  
Maybe that was it, maybe he didn't adapt. Maybe he just remained the same. No matter who he was with or what they were doing. He was always himself.   
  
These logical thoughts didn't last in his traitorous brain long. Soon the echo of Stiles heart beating against the fall of water and the obscenities that had tumbles from his lips as he came were there in Derek's mind as real as if he were hearing them live and without conscious dedication his hand was in his cock, squeezing curiously. Oh my god just the pressure of his hand rapped around himself was bringing him close to the edge.   
  
He huffs out a hot breath as his hand starts to move over his member, long slow strokes, torturing himself.   
He clamps his lips shut a moans against them as he cums against the wall.   
  
He leaves the shower feeling dirtier than ever. Anxiety. He shouldn't have entertained himself that thinking about Stiles and doing that was okay. Like his uncle said, Stiles deserved better. He was annoying and loud and.. twitchy, but he was a good person. A really good person. And he deserved someone who could equal that, which Derek certainly couldn't.  
  
  
Not that he wanted to. God, dating Stiles.. No he didn't want that.   
  
He begun to pull his plaid pyjamas on but stopped and removed them half way. Even after the cold shower he was hot. It was a humid night too. He found some clean underpants and put those in instead.   
  
No. He just wanted to fuck him. He wanted to see him sprawled out and pliant and wanting and he wanted to take what he could get and then leave.   
But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Stiles would never be down for something casual and even I he was it would be wrong and so many levels and could only end in disaster.   
  
Luckily he was pretty sure Stiles wasn't interested, so all he'd have to do was give it space. He'd avoid Stiles as much as was humanly possibly when you were in the same pack and then these stupid little cravings would go away.   
  
He drops into bed and opens a book, staring unseeingly at the page that was marked with his 'save the wolves' bookmark Stiles had got him for whatever reason. He'd thought it hilarious. Derek didn't get it.   
  
Half an hour and one paragraph read thirty times later he slams shut the book and folds his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. Sleep. Everything will seem better after a good night’s sleep.   
  
Unless, of corse, your dream features a suggestive and scantily clad Stiles. Then shit just gets worse.


	2. Je Ne Regrette Rien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, un-beta'd as always.  
> Would love some feedback on what you think about the way the story is going :)

“Dude… _dude?_... Stiles!”

Stiles jumps out of his day-dream, ceremoniously knocking his books and stationary across the floor. He spins around glaring at his best friend. “What?!” he growls.

“Stilinski!” he snaps back round to front, not expecting coach to be stood at the head of his desk and jumping again, bashing his bandaged arm against the desk setting off shooting pains. He grimaces as coaches voice booms in his ear “Answer the question?!”

His jaw falls slack. “Errr.. sorry Coach..I..”

“As I thought Stilinski. Not.Paying. Attention. You know: life isn’t all about grades..”

Stiles leans back into his chair with a quite sigh, his cheeks burning as his classmates all turn to look at him, sniggering.

A few minutes later when the Coach has gone back to the front Stiles feels his phone vibrate. Reluctantly his slides it from his pocket.

_Sorry! Wait for me after class. S x_

He shoves his phone back into his pocket, not daring to reply and draw attention back to himself.

What feels like a lifetime but is actually only half an hour later the bell rings and within seconds the classroom is nearly cleared because it’s a Friday and it’s their first week back at school and they were all ready to get out of there.

Stiles waits reluctantly for Scott to pack up his books (he's really going over-board with being a good student. It's not actually necessary to take a whole library to each class but try telling him that!) and stand beside him. They're alone in the classroom now.   
  
Scott looks awkward- more awkward than usual. He's avoiding eye contact, Stiles knows what's coming.   
  
"I'm fine-" he begins automatically but Scott holds up a hand to silence him.   
  
"I know, you're fine, it's just.. you've been really.. distant recently. And you.. dude no offense but you don't look 'well'. You have bags under your eyes an.. well you keep falling asleep in class..."  
  
Stiles hangs his head. "That was one time"  
  
"We've only been back a week! Look, you've just seemed strange since we got back-"  
  
"I thought the whole reason you sent me off with Derek was because I seemed strange!" Stiles throws his hands in the air in frustration. He's trying, so damn hard to seem normal but he can't. What does Scott want from him?  
  
"Yeah will this is worse strange! Are.. are you sleeping?"  
  
"Yes... no... not really but it's fine. I'm gonna see the doctor, I think I need my medication adjusted or something. Ill sort it out" he brushes it off, glancing out the window. The sun is still bright even thoughts its afternoon. The car park is nearly empty already. He can see his jeep. Help sweet jeep.   
He hitches his bag up onto his shoulder. "I'm gonna go.. I wanna catch my dad before he goes to work" it's an excuse but its not a lie so he doesn't feel guilty as he starts to leave.   
  
"You coming to Derek's tonight? Movie night? Remember?"  
  
"Oh.. that. I dunno-"  
  
"No you missed the last one. You're coming. Pick you up at half 8" he grins and bounces past, waving over his shoulder.   
  
Stiles sighs and shakes his head. Yeah, maybe Scott would have rethought ping last time is Derek had walked in in 'him' masterbating in the shower a few nights before..  
He knew Scott was only picking him up so he couldn't get out of if. He guessed he should be appreciative. Scott may be doing a terrible job at helping him, but at least he's trying.   
  
There's traffic in town, a broke light or something. Stuck on red. By the time Stiles gets home his dads already left. There's a sad note alone pinned to the fridge.   
  
_'Sorry I missed you son. I left $20 on the mantel. Have a good night, you deserve it. Let me know you're safe, hope the arms okay! Dad x'_  
  
Stiles automatically screws the note up but feels guilty and flattens it out, folding it nearly and tucking it into his back pocket. He knows his dad is worried about him. The nightmares have wen happening every night for the last week and he feels bad because neither if them are getting any sleep.  
His dad had carefully suggested therapy but Stiles had awkwardly explained they weren't trained to deal with what he was dealing with.   
  
He skips dinner and takes a long shower and dresses without really thinking. Jeans, navy tshirt and plaid shirt, and signs on his laptop to do some of his homework.   
It seems harder than usual. He's never struggled with his homework before. Maybe it's gonna be more difficult this year. They are juniors now after all. He's sure they hadn't even covered more if this..  
  
Scott and Allison call for him at bang on half eight. To say he's unenthusiastic would be a gross understatement.   
  
He slides into the back of the car.   
  
"Alright Stiles?" Allison beams at him in the rear view mirror. How does she do it? She's human too. Sure she has hunters blood, but really doesn't that just make everything all the more confusing? But she seems so fine now. So.. put together. Sure shed struggled a bit, but nothing like Stiles was..  
  
In the car he almost forgets where they're going til the pull up outside the loft. He can feel his heart rate pick up nervously as the ring the bell to let in.   
Stiles follows behind Allison and Scott quietly. He says hi to everyone. Even Lydia's here tonight and Danny.  
He drops down on one of the couches, which just so happens to be the one Derek’s on. He regrets it immediately  but can hardly get up and move..

He’s not in the mood to join the which movie war which Erica and Lydia dominate and finally agree on ‘Mean Girls’. Woo Hoo.

He feels his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until he can't focus in the screen at all. It actually hurts to try. Then they're closed and he's asleep.   
  
_It's his dad again. His favourite. 'Stiles what's going on?' His dad is panicking. He's tired up. The pjs pack stand around, a variety if weapons at their disposal.  
  
'Dad!!' Stiles screams but he's tied up too. He's shackled to the wall opposite.   
  
'Stiles this is your fault! I'm going to die, because of you' his dad looks at him so betrayed, the corners d his mouth turned down, a frown creasing his forehead, making him look older than he is.   
  
'No! Dad I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!'  
  
'That's a crap excuse and you know it. You should have been more careful. You should have been a better son!'  
  
There's a knife at his father throat now and Stiles can't take it, he closes his eyes and screams, a blood curdling cry of utter terror. _ He wakes with a start, thankfully not crying but that's the most positive thing he can mention.   
  
Everyone is staring at him in shock. Allison actually looks a little scared. And Scott looks so.. sympathetic. It makes him feel all the more ashamed.   
  
He opens his mouth to say something but he can't.. he can't think of anything. So he just shuts it again. And no one else speaks either. And no one looks away. And he can feel a hot blush burning his face all the way up to his ears but still no one does anything until Derek stands up abruptly and grabs him by his collar.   
  
"Stiles. Come with me" he says. As if Stiles has a choice. Scott makes to stand but is stopped instantaneously by Derek. "Let me. You can all go"  
  
Derek marches Stiles up the spiral staircase to his 'bedroom' at the top, a firm hand on his back giving him no choice to turn around. Once they reach the top Derek actually pushes him onto the bed.  
  
It doesn't immediately twig for Stiles that he's never actually been up here. In fact he's not sure any if the others have either. This is Derek's one bit of privacy, considering they all use the loft and even the Hale house as hang out or meeting points or training grounds. They're pack, no one asks, and suddenly Stiles feels a little guilty. He wonders if Derek actually minds that they're all here at his place. It's his Friday night too, but he's stuck babysitting a bunch of underage teenagers drinking beers and watching crap films.   
Stiles makes a mental note to make sure he asks Derek's permission before turning up at his place next time.   
  
Stiles is sat in the middle of Derek's bed where he'd landed but Derek doesn't sit. He's pacing feverishly. He stops and takes his hands through his hair.   
  
"This happens every night?" His voice is constricted and dripping with something Stiles can't place.   
  
Stiles plays with his hands. "No..-"  
  
"Don't lie to me" Derek snaps.   
  
"Then don't ask questions you already know the answer to"  
  
Derek turns to face him now. There's very little light up here, just the orange glow of a lamp in the far corner. The floor and walls are wooden except from the far wall which is cream. There are three book shelves with a mismatched array of titles and a big flat screen tacked to the wall opposite Derek's queen bed. It minimalist but not in a modern way as Stiles had expected. It’s more… rustic.  
  
"What are you doing about it?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest.   
  
"..Huh?" It's not a stupid question, just not the one Stiles was expecting and not nearly worded expressively enough for his scattered brain to make sense of it.   
  
"The nightmares. What are you doing about them?"  
  
He gulps and opens his mouth. What is he supposed to do?  
  
Derek lets out a frustrated growl, crossing the room left to right and back again, waving his hands in the air expressively as he speaks. "Nothing. Of course not Stiles! What, you think this is just gonna go away by itself?!"  
  
Stiles can only shrug. He feels like he's being told off. Well he is. He pulls his knees up to his body and hugs his arms.   
  
He can tell Derek is mad but the Alpha can see the effect he's having on him and tries to soften his voice. "Have you spoken to a doctor?"  
  
"No I-"  
  
"You have to"  
  
Stiles leaps from the bed, his own anger boiling over. "Why? So he can dose me up with Medazalam and Citalopram and sedate me? Because I don't even know what's real and what's my nightmares anymore and more drugs is not going to help me!"  
  
Suffice to say Derek at least looks surprised. "Stiles you need to sleep."  
  
"No! Because sometimes I'm daydreaming and when I stop I have to physically remind myself what real! I keep thinking that my dad is actually dead!" He's shouting now. He should feel guilty. It's not explicitly Derek's fault. But Derek's anger seems to have fizzled out. He's pacing again and Stiles realizes maybe this is how he thinks or something, he's never noticed.   
  
"Deaton!" He turns around quickly, a bright look in his eyes. "Have you spoken to Deaton?"  
  
".. You mean.. Scott's boss.. the vet?"  
  
Derek rolls his eyes "I mean Scott's boss the Mage"  
  
"Yeah no" Stiles says sarcastically, obviously missing the part where that is a good plan. "Right this has been.. fun but I'm gonna.." He heads to the stairs but before he's even reached them Derek is in front of him, barring his exit. He has an earnest expression in his face, his hazel green eyes glowing fiercely.   
  
"What, home? Your dads working the night?"  
  
Stiles looks at the floor, shrugging miserably. Where else did he have to go?   
  
"You can stay here?" Derek suggests as if reading his mind. Stiles shivers. That's one thing werewolves aren't. Telepathic. And he's damn glad for that.   
  
"No, I.."  
  
"It wouldn't have to be weird! We're pack. I'm your alpha. It's my job"  
  
'What if I want it to be weird' Stiles thinks before he can stop it. So that's what Derek thinks?   
  
"No I-"  
  
"Isaac has stayed. Hell he lived here for months"  
  
"Well with the fractured collarbone and all the sofas kind of out of the question"  
  
"Take my bed" Derek days flatly, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. There’s a long silence that fall between the two of them. It’s not uncomfortable. Stiles feels it kind of says more than any words can. Well from these two anyway.   
When Derek speaks again his voice is unbelievably soft. “Stiles?” He whispers. His hand reaches up slowly and Stiles is sure he sees it quiver as he reaches for his chin, tilting his face up to look into his eyes. “ _Stay”_ And Stiles isn’t sure if it’s his weird Alpha abilities or just his.. Derek abilities… but Stiles nods and lets himself be lead over to the bed.

Derek paces backwards slowly, taking Stiles hand, pulling him with him.  As the older man reaches the bed he drops down onto it, his knees falling apart, still drawing Stiles towards him until he’s stood between his legs and looks up at him through thick lashes. 

“Der..-“

“I want to help you. I.. I don’t know how…”

“I..” Stiles is feeling over-whelmed. He starts to pull back but Derek stands immediately, suddenly clumsy, knocking Stiles arm and making him squeal. “Sorry-“

“S’okay-“

Derek sits back down quickly but his hand reaches for Stiles again, carefully hooking the back of his neck he pulls his face down to his. Stiles blood is rushing so loudly in his ears that he can’t hear anything and his just completely not functioning rationally so he lets himself be moulded by Derek’s intentions, and pulled into him.

Stiles gasps a little as Derek’s lips meet. He gulps against the heat and nearly chokes and it’s totally unromantic and probably the worst kiss ever and Stiles has no idea what it means but he agrees to stay the night.


	3. Weaknesses and Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short! Next chapter soon (and I like the next one, been fun to write :p)

_// Derek isn't used to sharing a bed with anyone. He's not used to sharing his space with anyone. Sharing his room.  
  
With Paige, they'd been too young. With Kate.. it hasn't been her scene. She didn't like to cuddle. She's just fuck him and leave him to pick up the pieces after.   
  
Both relationships had damaged him in a thousand different invisible ways and left him in the position he was in now, in bed with a teenager he wanted to fuck who was pretty much terrified of him and Derek couldn't trust himself to even indulge in the 'idea' of it ever even happened if because he was in no position to be with anyone. Because he might do a Kate on them. Not the burn down his whole family part. Hit the rest if it. Maybe.  
  
He lay on his back staring into the blackness. Stiles was curled up beside him. The poor kid had fallen straight asleep. He must have been exhausted.   
Derek had sworn to himself that he wouldn't touch Stiles. Not now. Not like this. But the guy was squeaking and mewling and panting and Derek could tell by his 'erratic'(?) heartbeat he was having a nightmare. So he curled his longer body around Stiles skinnier one, carefully placing and arm across him and his hot breath caressing the back of Stiles new seemed to.. work? He seemed to smooth. He fell silent and stopped fidgeting and slowly his heartbeat returned to normal.   
  
So that was the story of how Derek had fallen asleep spooning Stiles. //_  
  
He woke with a start. He didn't even realise where he was. He didn't even consider that he was at home because he could smell something that wasn't him and his room was only ever for him.   
He squinted, his eyes slowly adjusting to the early morning darkness that shadowed his bedroom. _His bedroom_. So he was home.   
He sat up, pulling away from Stiles too quickly but the boy didn't wake, he just sighed in his sleep, turning a little.   
  
Crap. _Crap crap crap_. Hale you have no damn self-control, he cursed himself. Looking down at the bed beside him a sharp pang of guilty and dread hit him.  
  
He jumps as Stiles phone goes off again, surrendering itself as responsible for waking Derek at such an unholy hour.  
He checks his radio alarm. 5:56. Too early. Even for him.   
He lay back down, running a hand through his hair. He could feel the familiar sweat of anxiety brewing beneath his skin.   
  
He tries to sleep again but all attempts are futile so he gets out of bed, careful this time to not wake Stiles, and heads for the shower.

He breaths heavy, a low, purely animal growl curling from his lips. He thumps his fists against the white tiled walls, before dropping his forehead against the cold, letting it envelope him, cool the blood in his veins, cool his emotions and desires.

He steps out heavily and dresses in a grey vest and black tracksuit bottoms.  
Afterwards he decides to do something he never does. Cook breakfast. Even more surprisingly, it was for two.  The only person he’d ever cooked breakfast for.. _Kate._

Shaking his head he banished the thought. This was very different. He and Kate.. and Stiles..  
  
He cracked two eggs into a pan. He was feeling ridiculously uncomfortable about the whole situation, but there was no need to let on. When Stiles woke he just had to convince him that it was just a pack thing. That nothing untoward went on.   
And then more difficultly convince himself of the same thing..  
  
A raise in Stiles breathing alerted him that his lodger was awake. He scooped the eggs onto the plates and a small pile of bacon and bread each. He thought he had to so together, the last thing he expected was for Stiles to appear at the kitchen doorway in only his boxers.   
Derek choked on his juice. Stiles looked sleepy and confused. His hair was poking out in all different directions.   
  
"Where are my clothes? My dad will..?" He mumbles, eyes half closed.   
  
"Er.. I made breakfast.." Derek suddenly feels embarrassed. Of course Stiles would get up and just want to leave. Not sit and have breakfast with him. What was he even thinking? He curses under his breath.  
  
Stiles eyes opened at this, latching onto the bacon and eggs. He scowls, apparently fully awake now. "One sec!" He disappears and reappears in the black tshirt he wore the night before.   
  
He leans in the doorway "Y.. you made breakfast?"  
  
Derek can feel himself blush profusely. "It was a stupid idea. I don't what I thought-" he grumbles so low Stiles doesn't have a chance to understanding and goes to take the plates back but Stiles steps forward and stops him, grabbing his wrist before he can move away and taking the plate out of his hand, dropping down onto one of the stools that lined the breakfast bar.   
  
"Bacon and eggs, yum!"  
  
"But.. your dad-"  
  
"Yeah you can't tell him" Stiles says happily, plucking a fork from the cutlery stand with his good arm and pointing it at Derek. "I never let him have fry ups!" He says and tucks in.   
  
Derek is mesmerised for a moment. Watching Stiles, who's still in his underwear, one arm still in a grubby sling from an injury he obtained a fortnight ago, humming contently as he munches in a piece of bread.   
A few months ago he would have been convinced by this act, but the more you know Stiles the more you realize how much his buoyant personality is a cover-up of his real feelings. Take right now for example. He feels awkward as hell. Derek can literally smell the regret, and yet on the surface.. nothing.   
  
Stiles finishes first and washes up his plate. Then when Derek finishes shortly after he washes up his plate and the frying pan and spatula.   
  
"You want to shower?" Derek asks languidly, barely catching Stiles nod.   
  
He fetches clean towels and switches the shower on for him, whacking the heat up significantly because he seemed to only take cool showers these days.   
When Stiles is in the shower Derek doesn't know what to do. He feels awkward and exiled I'm his own home. This is why he doesn't like having people over.  
He finds himself stood in his room still as a statue, staring into space. He doesn't move until the front door goes.   
  
"He's here" Peter says, raising an eyebrow coolly.   
  
Derek snarls at his uncle, he wants to push him right back out the front door but is reluctant to step away from the foot of the stairs and give him the chance to access Stiles.

“Yes, as are Scott and Isaac and any other member of the pack at times”

“I’m not stupid Derek, he’s in your room” Peter saunters into the kitchen and lifting a piece of bread. “Bacon, and you saved me none?” He tears off a piece chucking it into his mouth.

Derek struggles to keep his temper under wraps. “This has nothing to do with you so just keep-“

“You think anyones gonna be happy for you? You think you’d ever be able to go out in public? Or even hang around with the pack?”

“It’s not like that!” Derek can feel his wolf itching to get out. His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides.

“And his father. The sheriff. What would he say if he knew where his son had spent the night?”

“Get out! Get out!” Derek finally snapped lurching from the bottom step and grabbing his uncle by the coat, shoving him towards the door. He was stronger than his uncle, as Alpha, but Peter didn’t bother to put up a fight. He just laughed wickedly and as he stumbled over the door way. He flattened his crumped shirt and stared at Derek.

“There’s trouble brewing. We’re a weak link as a pack. You insist on being in charge we are all in your hands. This-“ he gestures to Derek and up the stairs to Stiles “-is a stupid idea and you know it. A moment of distraction could be a disaster and when _this_ goes sour, our bonds with the humans and the hunters, with Scott goes with it.”

Derek can’t form a sentence immediately as peter’s words sink in. “Y- you don’t know what you’re talking about”

Peter shakes his head. “Think before you act.” He growls, shifts and disappears.

Derek slams the door, swearing, but that doesn’t cover it, he yells, howls, thumping the door. He contemplates putting his fist straight through the door but that won’t make anything better. He spins around and jumps when he finds Stiles a few feet, dressed, his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair is still damp. He looks uncertain.

“Okay?” he asks weakly.

“No. Yes. Just.. go Stiles” he pushes the door open with unnecessary force and steps back. Stiles hesitates like he’s going to say something but thinks better of it, casting his eyes downwards and shuffling out, shoulders stiff and hunched.

He doesn’t stay and watch him go. He slams the door shut, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn’t know what to do. His life was beginning to resemble a workout montage and whilst he liked to keep in shape even werewolves could over-do it and he aching in his muscles was beginning to hamper him.

Taking the stairs two at a time he went to fetch his car keys. A drive. He could go for a drive. But he stopped when he reached his room, suddenly overwhelmed. Stiles scent washed over him. Soap and mint and subtle lavender undertones, fabric softener. 

His eyelids fall shut automatically. It was a mistake. A big mistake to have Stiles here. His one sanctuary was now invaded by him. He found himself heading for his bed, stripping his vest off as he goes, he drops down onto it, lifting the sheets and holding it to his nose. Just his scent, mixed with Derek’s own. He could feel his cock twitch in response and immediately begin to harden. He closed his eyes. _Was he really going to do this?_

Dropping down onto his back he pushed the waistband of his sweats, easing it over the full swell of his erection and wrapping his hand around it.  
He moves his hand over himself a few times, testing, before throwing his head back, looking to the side so as to inhale his pillow.  
He can have this. This one thing. And then, loathed as he is to admit it, Peter is right, this must stop. Whatever _this_ is.

So he lets go, opening a box he’d kept locked for a while now. He hadn’t dared let himself think of Stiles in this way. Because it was wrong.

Stiles pale skin, soft as silk and unmarred, painted with a unique canvas of freckles that Derek wanted to _taste._  
He soft dark hair, all grown out of the youthful crop. His body, his limb, long, thin, slender. He didn’t have a ideally masculine physique, but his hipbones, the small trail of hair that _directed_ Derek’s eyes from his belly button down to the waist band of his always ridiculously low-slung jeans..

A foreign moan escaping his lips. He let his mind continue to wander as his hand began to move faster. 

The twitch of Stiles eyebrow when he’s confused. The tilt of his neck when he’s listening. The way he fumbles with his hands when he’s awkward. And the little noises he makes. The sighs and grunts and gasps..

He cums hard and fast, spurts of white fluid covering his dark sheets. He doesn’t move for a while. Can’t. The loose ecstasy of post-orgasm rendering him useless for a while.  
Once he’s fully functioning he strips the bed, the quilt, the pillows and bundles them into the wash. He must get rid of Stiles scent, and he must never do that again. 


	4. Dazed and Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wants to know what's going on between him and Derek. Derek doesn't want to face up to anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, nice long chapter and minor Melissa/John just because.. ;)  
> Not beta'd but I'll go over it myself, just wanted to get this posted. Longer chapter too, woo!

_Ones an incident. Twos a coincidence. Threes a pattern.  
_  
He'd said it himself. He'd just never expected it to ever relate to sharing Derek Hales bed.   
  
Stiles didn't know how the hell they'd got here. Neither had been fond of the other to start with. They'd bickered like kids, but you know what they says about boys who pick on you..  
Somewhere along the lines any real venom behind the bitching had vanished and it had become.. routine. It wasn't flirting, but it was more banter than real arguing. It was done with an affection neither expected to afford the other.   
  
It wasn't until he'd seen the way Danny had looked at Derek that he'd realized how attractive he was. It sounds stupid because to everyone else it was obvious, even Scott would admit that he was hot. But it was like once he’d seen it… _he couldn’t un-see it._

Not that it mattered anymore. Derek hadn’t spoken to him since last weekend when he’d stayed over. He’d bumped into him, he’d dropped Scott round on Tuesday after some ‘wolf-business’ and totally blanked him. Not even eye contact.

Stiles had sweat it out for a day then text him Wednesday eve.

 **18:48**  
 **To:** _His Alpha-ness_  
 **Message:** _Hey.. are we okay?_

 **20:55**  
 **To:** _His Alpha-ness_  
 **Message:** _Okay that wasn’t just being friendly. I was looking for an answer.._

 **23:36**  
 **To:** _His Alpha-ness  
_ **Message:** _Derek I swear to god. Just.. text me back. Please?_

And then on Friday.

 **11:20  
To:** _His Alpha-ness_  
 **Message:** _Okay you’re an idiot. I don’t even wanna talk._

Then they’d got a bit drunk and he may have left one or.. five abusive voicemail messages. Not that he cared if Derek didn’t wanna speak to him. That was his prerogative. He just want.. something. Abuse. Tell him to bugger off. |Say it was a mistake. Just tell him something to help him understand.  
  


“Doc says it’s ready to come off!” Melissa swings into the waiting room Stiles and Scott had been poking around in for the last twenty minutes while she’d gone to chase up the x-rays Stiles had had taken of his collar bone two days before. “Scott!”

Scott jumps a mile dropping the pipe that was hanging out of the wall now pumping 40% oxygen into the room. Maria marches past him flicking it off quickly. “This is expensive Scott!” she reprimands, turning to Stiles next. “and you should not have your feet on the bed with your shoes on. You boys, this is a hospital not your home” she sighs.

“Sorry mum” “Sorry Mrs McCall” they chorus.

“Right, wish me luck!” Stiles grins, hopping off the bed and saluting Scott with is plastered arm, he follows Maria down the maze of corridors.

Three hours later Stiles finally gets the go ahead to have his cast removed. Scott had texted him a long while before saying that he was bored-as-hell and going to Allison’s because yeah he loved him but he wasn’t prepared to spend his Friday night sat in a hospital waiting room with a one-legged man and a woman talking to the plants.

The doctor pluggs in the saw and turns around, smiling at Stiles.

“Mr Stilinski, I haven’t had you in here since you were little. How did you do this one?”

Stiles jaw drops, his eyes widening because shit, how does he explain this? He was tossed through the air by a werewolf and hit a tree probably won’t cut it.

“Err.. skate..boarding?”

“Oh my nephew  has a skateboard. You any good?”

Stiles smiles awkwardly and holds up his cast.

“Good point” the doctor chuckles. “Right then.. let’s get going!” he flicks a switch and suddenly the saw bursts into life and the room goes blank.

  
Stiles wakes up staring at the florescent hospital strip lighting. His immediate instinct is to check his arm. Yup, still there. He sighs and relaxes back into the air mattress.

There’s a laugh from the door way and he bolts up but it’s only Melissa. She smiles and waves. She has a phone held to her ear and a cheery smile on her face. “ _Yeah he’s fine. He didn’t like the look of the saw”_ she winks at him. She’s playing with her hair, twirling one of her ringlets around her index finger.  “I’ve looked after him” she chuckles again. “Okay John, no problem. Have a good evening”. She clicks off the phone and drops it into her pocket. “That was your dad” she tells him but he’d guessed that because Melissa was a sassy and feisty lady but she seemed to go all soft and giggly around his dad. He shuddered. God knows why!

“Yeah, he alright?”

“Yeah he was just wondering where you were! He’s off to work”

“Whahh-“ Stiles head snaps round.

"What? It can't-.. it's nearly nine?" His eyes a boggled wide. No way! They'd fit here early afternoon!  
  
"Yeah" Melissa chuckles. "Well, are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Yeah can I go? I've wasted my whole Saturday-" Melissa raises an eyebrow and folders her arms. "With you! So it hasn't been a waste at all! In fact Mrs McCall I've had a great day! We should do this again sometime? Are you free next weeke-"  
  
"Doctor said you can go if your obs are stable" she rolls her eyes, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she unravels the blood pressure cuff from a hook beside the bed.   
Stiles holds his arm out obediently as she inflates the cuff, feels his pulse, counts his resps and clips one probe on his index finger and pokes another in his ear. "125 over 85, 68, 13, 99% and 36.2." She smiles as she unhooked the clipboard from the end of his ed and scribbles down whatever that was suppose to mean. "You may as well take these as well. Doc automatically had them sent" she tells him unlocking the cabinet beside his bed and handing him a small white pot. His Adderall. He takes them sheepishly, even though he's known Melissa since way before e was even prescribed them and it was her who'd helped him get diagnosed with his ADHD when teachers had just thought he was a trouble-maker. "You know you're due a review on your medication. Can I book you in for one?" Her tone had softens considerably an she had a look in her eyes that comforted Stiles into talking about something he didn't like to, at least on a serious level.   
  
"Er, I think I'm alright" he runs the back if his neck awkwardly.   
  
She smiles again. "Think about it okay? Now don't let me catch you in here again! Otherwise ill think Scott isn't looking after you properly!"  
  
He looks up at her when she says that. Because he doesn't understand how she copes. He's so full of self-pity because a fair percentage of his friends are werewolves but that's kind of his choice. For her It’s her son! This obviously isn't the life you dream of for your kid.   
He does something he wouldn't normally do, hoping off the bed he gives her a quick hug before he heads out.   
  
"Thanks"   
  
"No problem Stiles"  
  
  
When he reaches his car he pushes his key into the ignition and checks the dials. Half a tank still. 9:08. Bloody hell.   
She starts with a purr before chugging into life. He reverses out of his bay and tapping down on the clutch slips into third gear, beginning on the short drive home.   
  
The hospital is situated ten or so miles out of the centre of town, two miles from the edge. The roads surprisingly empty.   
Stile stomach begins growling loudly and he realizes he hasn't eaten since midday. He knows there's nothing in the house. Since he'd gone back to school the responsibility of the food shopping had fallen back to his father who was not handling the responsibility so well.   
  
He kept his eyes peeled at the sides if the road for somewhere he could get a bite to eat when something else catches his eye.   
He slams his foot in the break, luckily no one is behind him because he hasn't even checked.   
There at the side of the road at a barely noticeable lay by is a building, a pub of some sort, a strange L-shaped brick place with illuminated fluorescent beer signs in the windows and an assortment of Harley's and Hondas parked outside. A green sign in the roof reads 'The Highway Man'. Outside a group of men in leather jackets are smoking and drinking pints and laughing and ignoring Stiles as he pulls up alongside the Camaro that's parked to the right of the car park.   
  
Stiles doesn't think about what he's doing as he opens his door and hops out his jeep, shutting, locking the door as waking straight into the bar. The first section, one half if the L shape is a vaguely more formal affair. There's a tv in the corner showing college football highlights. There are about six tables, a family, a lesbian couple holding hands and smiling at each other and a straight couple bickering quietly, and two groups of men, one young one older occupy them.   
An older looking waitress with a full face of make up and bleach blonde hair piled high in her head sits at the last table, swinging on her chair, her feet on the table, popping her gum an lazily eyeing the customers. A bar runs the length of the room all the way into the other section which is divided to the customers by frosted glass double doors.  
  
Stiles feels like he's closing because he's sure he didn't make a conscious decision for his feet to take him over to the doors and wait why are his arms opening them?!  
  
The first thing his eyes latch onto.. he'd recognize that area anywhere.   
Derek is bent over one of the two pool tables occupying where the dining tables had been in the other half if the room. There is a darts board in the far wall and a traditional jukebox sits quietly in the corner. Stiles wonders if he has any coins.. what the soundtrack should be to this moment however he has no idea. As it is Queen is playing quietly in the background.   
  
Derek takes the shot, potting the final ball he straightens up and without even seeing his face Stiles can picture his smug expression.   
  
A guy pushes off from the bar. He must be nearing fifty. His head is shaved but his beard shows a lot of grey hairs. He has a round belly but expensive looking shoes. He leans in his cue. "Alright, you win" he tells Derek, not sounding surprised. "How much do I owe you know?"  
  
Derek speaks for the first time, confirming for sure that he is who Stiles knew he was just from his back-side. "Including out last four games a hundred and fifty. I'll take a gin for now tho-" his voice trails off as her turns and his eyes fall on Stiles. The guy doesn't seem to notice though, and simply heads for the bar.   
  
Stiles freezes with fear. What is he doing? Like seriously, why is he here? Derek had made it pretty clear the lady few days that he wanted nothing to do with him, but apparently going through that humiliation by text wasn't enough for Stiles. No, he wanted to go through it all a second time, this time face to face.   
  
Derek looks to the side, his face void of expression. "You.. following me?" He asks flatly.   
  
Stiles jaw drops because of corse he'd think that. He'd spent the first half of the week texting him, the second half ringing him and now he'd turned up at some random bar in the middle of nowhere.. yeah he was looking pretty guilty. "Wh- no. No! I was.. my.. arm" he flusters, waving his newly cast free arm.   
  
"At.." he checks the clock over the bar. "Half 9?"  
  
Stiles blushes. "I er.. kind of.. fainted"  
  
Derek's head snaps up and Stiles is sure he's smirking but he sucks his lips in and says nothing.   
The guy he'd been playing Pool with swivels on his bar stool and raises an eyebrow at Derek.   
  
"Derek son, remember what I told you about being nice to people?"  
  
Derek rolls his eyes. "I don't need to be nice I know him"  
  
The guy laughs heartily and looks over to Stiles. "I tell him all the time! Boy has no people skills!"  
  
"Yeah tell me about it"   
  
"Was there something you needed?" Derek cuts over them abruptly before they have the chance to strike up a real conversation.   
  
Perhaps Stiles should just say no and leave. In fact, that's definitely what he should do. But.. he's Stiles. When does he ever do what he's supposed to?  
  
"I wanna play pool"  
  
"No" Derek says immediately but the guy at the bar smiles and slips off his stool, looking pointedly at Derek.   
  
"I'll play you"  
  
"I.. I don't know how.."  
  
"I'll teach you"  
  
As soon as Stiles drops the change into the slot at the side of the table and the balls roll out Derek storms off to the toilets, slamming the door behind him. But he can only hide in there so long. When he re-emerges ten minutes later Stiles hasn't managed to pot a single ball.   
  
'Jim' is very patient, or maybe it's the beer. He tries fruitlessly to held but Stiles is pretty much a list cause. Apparently however, he has ulterior motives.   
  
He chuckles, shaking his head as Stiles misses the white ball with the cue. "Okay kid, I gotta smoke" he pats him too hard on the back between the should blades. "Derek take over, maybe you'll have more luck" he has the cue in Derek's hands before he can say know and is out threw the double doors.   
  
Derek's face is stormy with frustration and his eyes glow as they bore into Stiles waiting for him to retake his shot. Well he was bad before but there's no way in hell he'll be able to hit anything with Derek watching him like that.   
  
He swallows, his hands shaking as he lowers the cue to the table.   
  
He hears Derek sigh and sees him push off the wall out if the corner of his eye though he can't tell where he's going til he feels him behind him.   
  
Derek doesn't show Stiles like Jim had. Derek pushes the length of his body against Stiles back, his arms long enough to fit around Stiles, his hands covering his, his hot breath on Stiles sensitive neck and he's sure he can feel Derek's lips skim his ear as he speak.   
  
"Like this" his voice is thick as treacle and curls around Stiles' ear in a sultry caress. And then he's bending him over further across the pool table, rocking his hips against Stiles backside and Stiles feels like he's about to faint or choke and there's no way he can play like this..  
He's about to say this when Derek makes the shot and.. gets it in one.     
  
He pulls back and is somehow the other side if the table in a split second.   
  
"You see? Easy?"  
  
But Stiles is speechless.   
  
They carry on like this for the next few hours. Derek buys Stiles cokes. Jim comes back and buys him beers. Turns out Jim was a family friend of the Hales and has known Derek since he was a kid.   
It's strange, because Stiles forgets Derek has actually lived here most of his life.   
  
"But he doesn't-" Stiles whispers, because he just has to know.   
  
"He has an idea. But no" Derek growls glancing at him sideways his expression definitely telling Stiles to shut up.   
So Jim probably doesn't realize the chances of brain Derek at.. anything are slim to none.   
  
Stiles is perched on a bar stool, legs swinging beneath him. He's managed to sneak four beers, so he's a little light headed but not anywhere near hammered enough to relax.   
Derek was being all kinds if strange. He'd been so frosty when Stiles had arrived and whilst he wasn't being exactly.. friendly, he kept slipping up.   
He'd come and stand beside Stiles, pressing his body flush against his, resting his hand on the small of Stiles back, squeezing his thigh when he wanted to say something.   
  
The hand is there now. On his left leg. It slides up an inch as he tightens his grip a little. "We.. should go" his voice is low and he's not looking at Stiles and Stiles isn't sure what it means but he nods as Derek pays his tab and they leave.   
  
"What about.." Stiles looks longingly at his jeep.   
  
"I'm not driving that piece of crap" Derek says pointedly, walking over to the Camaro and opening the passenger door to Stiles. "If you give me the key ill drop it round tomorrow" he suggests because it would takes Stiles at least half an hour to walk out here but Derek can probably jog it in under ten minutes.   
  
"Uh.. okay"  because Stiles thinks four beers is defiantly too much to drive and he's pretty sure that just being around Derek makes him feel drunk so he slides clumsily into the car.

Derek pulled up outside Stiles house and pulled on the hand break.  Stiles felt a jolt of pain in his chest.   
  
"You're not even gonna cut the engine?" He asks quietly, staring straight ahead.   
  
There was a pause. "I didn't know I needed to" Derek replies smoothly, but nevertheless the numb buzz if the engine snapped off an the vibrations stopped.  
  
Stiles clicked off his belt but still didn't move. His breathing was becoming more and more laboured and he could feel beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He swallowed.   
  
"I.. we.." he closes his eyes in frustration. What does he even want to say?  
  
"Stiles-"  
  
"No, we.. we should talk.. a-about.."  
  
He heard Derek sigh, as if he wasn't humiliated enough. Was he boring him? "I really don't think we should. There's nothing good that can come from talking"   
  
"What, ever?" Stiles gave a grim chuckle and finally braved looking up and making eye contact with Derek.   
  
The corners of Derek's mouth tugged, revealing a very small smile. "I've yet to be proven otherwise"  
  
Stiles nods and the shakes his head and finally his body to his flailing brain and he reaches over and opens the door, swinging a leg out but before he can slip out completely Derek catches his shoulder. He freezes and turns.   
  
"D.. do you really want to talk?"  
  
"Yeah" Stiles nods. "Not.. I mean.. Yes. Nothing serious. But yeah, we should talk"  
  
Derek looks regretfully out the windscreen. "I'll come round tomorrow. When's your dad out?"  
  
Stiles gulps. There's still that little voice in the back of his was yelling 'he only wants to know so you're alone and vulnerable' or something to that extent. He still doesn't trust Derek 100%. Sickenly enough, he seems to like that fact.   
  
"He's working a night. Eight til eight"  
  
"I'll be over at nine"  
  
He releases Stiles shoulder and Stiles jumps straight from the car, now just desperate to get to his room and away from this. He's already regretting his decision to invite him over.   
If he change his mind he could always not let him in? As if he could actually stop Derek.   
It's a shame werewolves aren't like vampires, that they don't need an invitation that can be rescinded at any time.   
  
"Alright"  
  
"Night Stiles"  
  
He pauses, only a second, before turning to say goodnight it Derek has already sped off into the night, the red tail lights the only visible part of the Camaro.


	5. Maybe I Should Cry For Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Derek gets his hands on Stiles, but of course all does not go smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Title is from AWOLnation - Sail, if you haven't heard that song you need to be because its the most Stiles/Sterek song ever and I just picture them making out to it and.. go listen. You'll understand)

Derek paces anxiously outside of Stiles house for at least fifteen minutes before he even attempts to enter. It's a luxury he's not used to, arriving unnoticed, being that most of his associates are wolves. So he takes the unique opportunity to try and gather his thoughts, head in with something to say.  
  
Stiles dad had left for work ages ago. He made sure to be there in time to watch him leave, so he knew they've have a rare bit of privacy.   
  
He’d lurked across the street in his car for a long whole after the Sheriff had left, going over scenario after scenario of what might happen tonight, searching desperately for an option with a happy ending but coming up trumps every time.   
He finally got out the car and began pacing. He can’t believe he’s doing this. _How_ is he doing this? How has he got himself into a situation where he’s going in to seventeen year old boys room to say _‘yes okay, maybe we’ve shared a bed a few times, and yes I quite obviously fancy you because I had you bent over a pool table last night and I may have had a semi-lob on but you should probably stay away from me because relationship don’t work from me. I either kill my other half or they kill my family so yeah, no.’_  
  
He casts his eyes to the sky. The moon was big and bright in the sky, a few short days from being full. He never usually felt the effects of it this early but that uneasy tingling under his skin was already there. He tore his gaze away, directing it back over to Stiles front door.  
  
This was a stupid idea. He shakes his head at his stupidity and makes to leave but stops still halfway down the garden path.   
No. Running away from your problems never solves them. Don't be a coward. He needs to walk straight in there and tell Stiles that whatever he thinks is worth talking about between them is actually nothing. Definitely nothing. He could apologize for letting him think that there was, but no. Being harsh was probably the best thing he could do. What he always tried to do. Don't let Stiles like you back. If doesn’t like you back, or at least doesn’t see any possibility of.. _anything_ , then maybe it can still be okay.  
  
He crouches and leaps and in one swift and graceful movement he's landed gently on Stiles windowsill. He lifts the frame of the window and ducks in.   
Stiles isn't in the room straight away but he can hear him close by.   
  
Derek flexes his fingers and wanders over to Stiles computer desk, leafing through the haphazard pile of paper that had gathered around the printer tray.   
He raised his eyebrows. Even he couldn't deny the level of knowledge the kid had. He was revising for a history pap-  
  
"Holy crap-Derek!" Stiles jumps, catching his bottle of water but the bag of popcorn, luckily unopened, flies from his hands and lands a foot away. "What are-... the front door!" He shakes his head, dropping down to pick up the popcorn and offloading it and the water onto his bed and looking up at Derek a little bewildered.   
  
Derek drops the papers and straightens up but all the opening lines he'd practiced while stood outside died on his tongue and he couldn't think of anything to say.   
  
Luckily Stiles can easily speak for two and immediately starts blabbering to fill the awkward silence that had descended upon them.   
  
"Is it a wolfy thing? To use the window for entry? If I'd known you were gonna do that you wouldn't have had to wait for my dad. I mean, it's probably best that you did, since he's not your biggest fan but-"  
  
"Stiles!" Derek pinches the bridge of his nose exasperated. He was regretting his decision to come here already.   
  
"Oh er, sorry. Water?" He drops down onto his bed and holds up the Evian bottle which Derek declines. He shrugs, screwing the lid off himself and taking a swig.  
  
"Look, you said you wanted to talk?" Derek says, trying to sound at least uninterested, if not bordering annoyed but he's not sure it works because once again Stiles scent is wafting over him, calming him when he doesn't want to be calmed. Just breathing it in makes him feel drugged and light headed and no- he has to keep his wits about him.  
  
He watches colour flush Stiles face, spreading across his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. His eyes drop to the water bottle where his fingers have started to unpick the label. Textbook Stiles.   
  
"Oh yeah.. that.. I.."  
  
Derek waits but his impatience gets the better of him and he feels his expression soften. Reluctantly he slips into the swivel chair at the computer desk, putting himself at a similar level to Stiles.    
  
"Breath" he reminds and Stiles gasps out a breath in a futile attempt to calm himself. Derek can smell the anxiety thick in the air.   
  
"I just thought.. I mean.. Well I wanted to say thank you for.. the other weekend. I.. you didn't have to let me come with you.. And.."  
  
It’s Derek’s turn to choke. He can't believe what he’s hearing. He jumps up, knocking the chair over. "What the.. No, no, how can you be thanking me for that?! Stiles you got mol-" but he stops seeing Stiles cringe inwardly.   
  
"I just.."  
  
"No. Don't be stupid." He says trying to sound softer.  
  
"I'm not! I needed to get away from Beacon hills and you didn't have to take me with you but you did even though nine times out if ten I'm useless and-"  
  
Derek doesn't know what he's doing but he needs to shut Stiles up and he doesn't know how because he doesn't want to hurt him which would be his usual method, so he clamps his hand over his mouth which shuts him up instantly. Stiles eyes go wide in surprise or fear, the hazel of his iris liquefying. But he waits obediently for Derek's next move which is not planned at all.   
  
"I.. you need to shut up for a minute" he says, his voice thick with misplaced emotion. He swallows, trying not to sound quite so aroused but he can feel Stiles soft lips against the palm of his hand and god the kid is just 'sat' there waiting for him to do something. He stares at him hard making sure he won't start speaking and slowly removes his hand. "Okay.." he mumbles. He can feel his own heartbeat naturally rising to match Stiles. Their faces are only inches apart and it's wrecking Derek's resolve.   
Wait, why couldn't he do this? How was this wrong? This felt right. It was the only thing that felt right and he was powerless. He leans forward, closing the last few inches between them, forcing his lips against Stiles who seems to melt to his touch.   
Derek's hand moves to the back of Stiles head, holding him in place as his mouth moves over his and _oh god_.   
He has to force himself to pull away, to check Stiles, to check that he was okay. He meant to ask but the look in his eyes… they were totally clouded over, pupils blown wide, and that was it.   
He places his mouth over his again, kissing him as gently as he could manage for a moment, then lapping at his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, making Stiles shiver against him, requesting entry rather than simply taking it because apparently that was about as far as his self-control spanned.   
  
Stiles jaw falls slack, allowing Derek's tongue full access to probe his mouth, run along his teeth and drink him in like he gasping for water except Stiles wasn't water, he was the best damn thing Derek had ever tasted, his warm wetness, and suddenly Derek was insatiable.  
  
Forcing himself away a second time was even harder but his self-control was now practically non-existent and Stiles was just 'taking' it he didn't want this to become something he didn't want because he could so easily just rip Stiles stupid grey t-shirt off and feel his skin an..  
  
Stiles gives a small whimper as the contact is broken and his eyes fell shut for a moment. When they open’s they were still unfocused. He’s breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling so visibly. Derek glared at him. Waiting for.. _something_.   
  
"Wow, you 'really' don't wanna talk. I mean; if you'd rather do this-"  
  
Derek growls under his breath and launches at him again. This time the kiss is more desperate and he can feel the electricity of desire bubbling in the pit of his stomach, threatening to overtake every other thought. He nips at Stiles bottom lip and the strangled moan it elicits is enough for Derek. He slides an arm around Stiles back, lifting him with ease back onto the bed and laying him down, covering his body with his, rutting his hips against his making Stiles gasp into his mouth.   
  
He drags his lips down and begins kissing and sucking across his jaw, leaving small red marks. He trails down his neck, licking and nipping and scraping his teeth across the sensitive skin there, making Stiles body react, pushing up against him, and finally his arms reach round, and he runs his fingers threw Derek's hair and a shiver down his spine.   
  
He dips his head, tugging at the collar of Stiles shirt so that he can access his collar bone. He sinks his teeth gently into the flesh, careful not to break it. He doesn't want to tarnish Stiles beautiful body. Well, not unless Still wants him to.   
  
He begins to trail kisses down to Stiles chest. He's painfully hard now. He can feel his sensitive cock rubbing against the soft cotton of his boxers, straining against the tight denim of his jeans. It's ridiculous but there's nothing he can do right now.   
  
He reaches the waistband of Stiles jeans and pushes his shirt up, giving him access to his already favourite part of Stiles. His razor sharp hip bones and his happy trail. His tongue traces the new skin, memorizing the feel and the way touching certain bits make Stiles react.   
And then he's at his crotch,  mouthing at Stile erection, nuzzling between his legs with his nose, getting high off Stiles and the smell of his sex.   
  
His hands reach for Stiles belt but Stiles hips jerks and he looks up.   
His cheeks are pink, flushed with desire Derek can 'taste' but he reaches a hand out to Derek.   
  
"Derek" he mutters and that's when he senses the undercurrent of fear surrounding Stiles, mixing with the kids more obvious desire. He freezes.   
  
"Shit. Shit shit" Derek pulls back, recoils like a wounded dog, shuffling to get off the bed but Stiles shakes his head as if to ground himself and rolls forward, a slim hand wrapping around one of his wrists.   
  
"No. Der-" he still doesn’t seem to be quite orientated to time and place.

“Stiles I.. I’m sorry” he pulls his arm away and backs all the way off the bed.

“It’s o.. you.. I didn’t mean..” he stutters, not sure himself what he wants to say.

Derek sighs, swallowing his longing. He has to get out of here. He hates to do this and leave but Stiles is sat in the middle of the big double bed looking like a lost puppy and he just wants to rush forward and hug him and apologize and.. but it wouldn’t go like that. Because he’s a werewolf. And it’s nearly full moon. And dammit he hasn’t had sex in a _while._

“No you’re right” he straightens up, clenching his fists. “We.. we shouldn’t have done that. I’m.. gonna leave.”

“No! No don’t! Please Derek I just..”

“This was a mistake” he says, feeling sick as Stiles actually flinches.

“But.. why? I.. I don’t mind..-“

Derek can hardly think but he has to say something so he can leave but what can he say to make it make sense?

“Stiles, I’m only looking for one thing. I just want.. _sex_. Rough and hard” he cringes at his own words but forces the rest out. “and.. I guess I kind of what you, but only for a shag and.. you deserve better so.. this can’t happen” he waits for Stiles to respond. Part of him wants Stiles to get up, grab him, make him see sense. Tell him it’s okay, they’ll work it out. But it’s not true and they both know it and Stiles just blinks, mouth open. “I’m gonna.. go..” he backs away to the window. “Stiles I.. I’m sorry. We.. we should probably not be alone..”

He thinks Stiles might reply but he dips out the window, falling neatly to the front lawn, not giving him a chance.

He’s breathing hard when he gets back to the loft. Even Peter makes himself scarce, which is saying something.  
He can’t calm himself. He can feel the familiar buzz of his wolf and for the first time in a long time he can’t stop himself shifting, tearing at the wall, the floor, himself, anything physical instead of emotional.


	6. When You're Through Thinking, Say Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama and frottage. Please enjoy!
> 
> Feedback greatly appreciated!

The next few weeks or so go by in haze of school and homework and trying not to think, about Derek, or just werewolves in general because what good have werewolves done for him?  
The heat wave is over and they’re well into autumn and October now, not that it ever usually gets so cold in Beacon Hills. Halloween paraphernalia begins to pop up in the shop and cafe windows and the school is hung with posters advertising the Halloween dance on the 31st, which of course Stiles will have nobody to attend with, so will either be sat at home alone or third wheeling with Scott and Allison. He’s not sure which would be worse.  
  
It's the 12th when the first body turns up. A forty year old man washes up in the river near the preserve. Multiple slash wounds. Animal attack. He worked at the gas station on the edge of town. Stiles had topped up there once or twice when he set about driving any kind of distance and realized last minute he had no petrol. He recognized the photo that kept cropping up on the news, though only vaguely.  
  
"Werewolves, right?" Stiles asks, dropping his tray down next to Scott's. The cafeteria was buzzing with talk about the murders.  
  
Scott is ripping apart a stale looking bread roll. "I don't know. What because I'm one I'm suddenly supposed to know automatically?"  
  
Stiles recoils taken aback but Scott sighs and forces an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I just.. I thought things were going back to normal. Or.. as normal as possible." He shakes his head, dropping the bread roll and scrubbing his hands across his face. "Derek's called a meeting at his tonight" he says, and then cuts in before Stiles can say anything. "Please come? I know.. you've been trying to avoid pack stuff recently, and fine. But.. I need you. We need you".   
  
Stiles swallows awkwardly, casting his eyes out across the canteen. Lydia is sat with a bunch of equally pretty girls. Back with the popular clique, mostly. Danny is with the jocks. The rest of the lacrosse team, where he belongs. Allison was in the library, last minute revision for a quiz she just knew she’s was going to fail but everyone else knew she was going to pass.   
Where did they all fit in in this? Would any of them ever really get _normal?_  "I really don't want to" he mutters, unable to make eye contact with his friend.  
  
"I know. Are.. are you frightened?" He says it so softly that Stiles couldn't take offence even if he wanted to.   
  
"No" he says truthfully. Frightened wasn’t the right word. Weary.  
  
"Because I don't want you involved.. in whatever we do. I just.. need some moral support. Derek has been _.. awful_ recently. We're meant to be working as a combined unit but man, his mood has been worse than ever. He always seems.. _better_ when you're around.. "  
  
Stiles chokes on his equally stale bread wall, reaching desperately for his water bottle. Scott hands him his and pats him hard on the back.   
  
"I'm serious" he says. "I don't know what it is..."  
  
Stiles nods. He's knows he's gonna regret this but "Yeah alright. I’ll come" maybe to cut Scott off before he says or thinks anymore, maybe because he’s worried, maybe he just to see Derek. A tiny indulgence. Because going cold turkey is bad.. right?  
  
He's rewarded by a genuine smile, which from Scott is as adorable as a baby bunny or something and Stiles is able to smile back because he's made his friend happy.   
  
Stiles manage’s to have a rare dinner with his dad before heading to pick Scott up at 7.   
They drive to Derek's flat it relative silence.   
  
Scott's hand clamps around his arm as he removes the keys from the ignition. "You sure you're alright?"  
  
"Yeah. Will be"  
  
Derek looks.. surprised, to see Stiles walking in. Which Stiles takes as a little victory because he'd expected Derek to smell him coming or something.   
  
"Scott.. Stiles, hi" he says, sounding a little choked. Stiles cast’s his eyes to the floor and shuffles in., dropping onto the far end of the couch, pulling his legs up and knocking his trainers off.   
  
  
"Any ideas Stiles?" 

Stiles jolts out of his daydream, wiping drool from his mouth and staring at Scott.   
  
"Huh.. what?"  
  
Derek growls frustratedly. "If you're not gonna listen there's really no point in you being here"  
  
"Trust me I know" he mumbles to himself. ".. look we really don't have enough information on this one" he shrugs half-heatedly, because why does every damn problem have to be their business to sort out?  
  
Derek scowls and rolls his eyes and they carry on their discussion which unsurprisingly concludes that they have no lead to go on and they'll just have to sniff around for other wolves.   
  
"Okay, I guess that's it?"   
  
Erica and Boyd jump straight up and suddenly look a little embarrassed for their quick escape.   
  
"We.." Boyd stumbles over his words, looking at Derek guiltily but Erica just takes his hand and beams.   
  
"Sorry losers, it's a Friday night and some of us actually have lives" she winks before dragging him out. It's a strange sight to see, someone the size of Boyd getting bossed around by a little blonde girl, especially knowing Erica pre-bite, but there’s something almost… _endearing_ about them. Such an odd couple, and yet.. they work. Or they will do if they ever admit that they are totally in love or whatever.  
  
Isaac rolls his eyes and disappears off to wherever it is he lurks when he’s here. Stiles is pretty sure he has a spare room. He’s not sure where that leaves Peter… why is he even thinking about this? His mind is in total overdrive again.  
  
Stiles drags his sleepy eyes over to Scott, sighing upon seeing his expression. Derek obviously sees it too because he wanders out the room, shaking his head.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I.. Allison.." He begins sheepishly.   
  
"Okay, you need a lift?"  
  
Scott grins. "Nah she's waiting outside. We got Lydia to cover for us, going to see some new sci-fi in town. You okay driving home?"  
  
"Yeah whatever-"  
  
"Dude you rock! Thanks for coming. Catch up Sunday, COD session at mine? Y'know, unless this all blows up"  
  
"Yeah alright" Stiles nods as Scott dashes out the room. He closes his eyes and drops back against the well-worn couch. He thinks he's maybe drifted half off until Derek's voice jolts him up.   
  
"You still here?"  
  
He turns around to see Derek leaning in the kitchen doorway, eyebrow raised.   
He gulps. He's been thinking about this for.. a while. Since that night in his room for sure, but probably for longer. This was the first time him and Derek had been alone since his bedroom at any rate making this his first opportunity. And he was really going to take it. He must be mad.   
  
He pushes his sweaty palms down his jean clad thighs.   
  
"What if I wanted to?"  
  
Derek doesn't move. "..stay..here?" He plays dumb. Stiles knows this because his werewolf senses must be picking up on his rapidly increasing heart-rate.   
  
Stiles gets up nervously, edging a little closer to Derek. "Sex. No relationship. You said that's not what I wanted. What if it was?"  
  
Derek's Adam's apple visibly bobs in his throat. He straightens up. "Stiles, you should just go" he says, sounding weary, glancing over at the front door as he says it as an extra hint.   
  
"No I'm serious" he urges, trying to sound certain of himself, which he definitely doesn't feel.   
  
"Out of the question"  
  
Stiles steps closer again and Derek turns away from him, facing into the kitchen.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're too young and.. it's a stupid idea. I didn't.. It wasn't ever on the cards.. I just meant-"  
  
"You said it's what you wanted"  
  
"No, I didn't mean it" he says, trying to sound adamant but failing miserably. Derek may be able to boss around his beta’s but it’s one luxury Stiles has, that he doesn’t physically _have_ to listen to him, even if usually it is the easiest option.  
  
Stiles reaches out for his arm to run him back to face him but he doesn't need to. Derek flinches away, spinning and backing up against his fridge.   
  
"Stiles-" he chokes out and Stiles can't believe how quickly and how easily Derek seems to be coming apart.   
  
"I'm serious Derek" Derek is looking at him as if he's gone totally crazy, as if he's just grown two heads or something except probably worse because Derek would probably look less surprised if that was the case.   
Stiles think’s he probably has gone totally crazy. He has no idea where this courage has come from and he's aware that it will only last so long and when it runs out he's screwed. But hey, might as well make the use of it while it’s here.   
He carefully shrugs his shoulder out of his open, lose plaid shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a soft pool.   
  
"Stiles- you don't know what you’re asking.." Derek's voice comes out strangled and breathless and he, Derek Hale, is watching him wide eyed, backed up against his own fridge, hands splayed out either side fucking _panting._  
  
"I'm asking.." Stiles speaks slowly, stretching his tight navy blue t-shirt off over his head and dropping that too. "You. To _fuck me_ "  
  
And he watches as Derek's eyes rake over his body, drinking him in, and something changes in them.   
"Leave" he offers one last time and Jesus god it sounds like a fucking whimper, there's absolutely no conviction to it at all but this is no time to be smug.   
  
"Make me" Stiles whispers.   
  
He flinches as Derek jolts forward because really it was a stupid thing to say because Derek could quite easily _'make him'_ but he doesn't. Quite the opposite. In a split second he has Stiles pressed up against the kitchen wall and has clamped his mouth over his, teeth clashing together, his hands rubbing and stroking and feeling every inch of Stiles exposed torso an when Stiles kisses back, opens his mouth for him, curls his tongue around his, Derek groans and presses his hips into Stiles, almost painfully hard.   
  
"Oh my god. You're so.. _needy_ " Derek pants between kisses and it’s not something Stiles has ever particularly thought of as a compliment but it seems to being having a very desired effect on Derek as his fingers massage across his shoulder and down his shoulder blades and back, leading to his hips and arse and then easily he strokes down Stile thighs and hoists him up so his legs are wrapped around his waist.   
  
"Dude you want me so bad" Stiles breaths and it’s not cocky at all, it's a kind of morbid disbelief.   
  
Derek pulls away from the wall and carries him back into the lounge. He drops him onto the sofa with a bounce, tearing off his tshirt before covering every inch of Stiles body with his own.   
  
It's.. mind-blowing, and for the first time in forever Stiles begins to feel like maybe just some of this is worth it.   
He's aware of every one of his muscles contracting a retracting and the heavy pulse of his blood and the tingle in every one of his sensitive nerve endings as Derek slides his thigh between Stiles legs, working it up to his crotch and rocking it there.   
Stiles has to break the kiss to gasp for breath but Derek doesn't let their break in contact last long, his lips clamping onto the base if Stiles neck, sucking hard, a sharp pain fading to a dull aches as he moves lower, repeating the action more carefully across his chest before taking one of Stiles nipples into his mouth and flicking his tongue across it. It's not enough. Stiles pushes his hand into Derek hair, holding his face against his chest until he feels Derek's teeth graze across the sensitive peaks and oh Christ it's ecstasy. He's grinding up against Derek an this is so so much better than when he's in his own.   
  
"I.. I'm gonna.. cum" he gasps. "I.. is that okay.."  
  
Derek doesn't stop his assault on Stiles nipple although he feels him smile. He doesn’t stop the persistent friction his thigh against Stiles erection he can only take it as a yes.   
He comes with a shudder, his orgasm crashing over him mercilessly, wave after wave and he can't stop himself moaning loudly because it’s never felt like that before and holy hell that cannot be normal? No wonder Scott is always smiling..   
Then Derek is reaching into his pants and tugging himself off. His eyes meet Stiles for the first time since they started kissing and somehow he fixes them there as he carries himself over the edge. "Fuck.. Stiles" he groans before collapsing his full weight down onto him.   
  
  
When Stiles wakes up he's in Derek's bed.  Noticeably missing, is Derek.   
He rolls over. He aches slightly but it's a pleasant ache. He notes he's clean and in a pair of Derek boxers, presumably Derek's doing as he doesn't remember much after his orgasm.   
He gets a lump in his throat when he thinks about last night. How was he going to be able to look Derek in the eyes like, ever again? How could he tell Scott? Or, more realistically, how could he lie to Scott?  
  
He notes a pile of his own clothes folded on a chair in the corner, which is both sweet and creepy at the same time. A pretty good analogy of Derek himself.   
He eases himself off the bed and spots a small post-it note atop the pile.   
Scrawled on it in Derek's messy handwriting is:  
  
 _'Gone to run errands. Feel free to shower/eat.  
If you still want to talk about this, give me a call when you're ready. Maybe we can get a coffee out of town.  
No pressure.   
D'_  
  
Stiles tries to ignore the 'out of town' bit and not think that maybe Derek doesn't particularly want to be seen with him, and focus on the fact Derek has actually offered they talk, acknowledging that _something_ is happening here, whatever it is. And that’s a tiny miracle.


	7. Drive My Heart

Stiles is ten minutes late to meet Derek. Derek has already started to think he's been stood up, a phenomenon he's not exactly used to, on the few dates he's been on anyway. Not that this is a date! Because, it isn't! It really really isn't. Probably the opposite.  
  
He clamps his teeth together, eyeing Stiles who's looking thin and swamped in an over-sized navy blue hoody, the sleeves pulled low over his hands. He shivers as he sits across from Derek, ordering an orange juice and a fruit flapjack.  
  
Derek checks the time. 13:11.  
  
"Oh, er, if you wanted lunch, we could.."  
  
"No, this'll do"  
  
"You should wear a coat" he's not sure why he says it but Stiles raises an unimpressed eyebrow so he shuts up because its none of his damn business and why should he care anyway.  
A long silence stretches out between them, an it's awkward even for Derek.  
  
Stiles eventually cracks. "Sooo.." he leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table between them. But Derek's not letting him get away with that.  
  
"You invited me here. You said you wanted to talk"  
  
Stiles hands slide from the table into his lap and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment, obviously deciding what to say.  
  
Finally he sighs. "Why didn't you fuck me?" He asks, brutally to the point and Derek just wants to throttle the kid.  
  
"Stiles! You shouldn't-" he stops himself, sucking in a breath because the cafe is quiet and he's shouting about sleeping with an underage child an the two old dears on the table closest to them are eyeing him suspiciously over their teas. He tries again, this time much quieter, three gritted teeth, comfortable in the knowledge his expression can carry his feeling quite well. "You shouldn't keep offering your virginity up on a plate!"  
  
Stiles blushes but still manages to mumble something sarcastically along the lines of 'I was hoping not I have to do it more than once' under his breath.  
  
"You deserve better!"  
  
"Well what if I don't want better?!"  
  
Derek drags his hands across his face in exasperation. "Why me?" He finally asks.  
  
Stiles looks away, out the window, anywhere hue at him.  
"I just wanna do it now okay. And you're the only person that's actually shown any interest in doing it, y'know, with me. I.."  
  
But Derek is pushing back from the table. So it's his fault. His influence. He'd tres so hard not to let his emotions show, not to sway Stiles. His berated and belittled him from day one because he knew that if Stiles realized it was an option he's be interested. Because he's just that kind if reckless self-destructive person and he just has to be different.  
  
"No" he holds his hands up shaking his head. "No. I'm.. interested. I'm interested in you sure, I can't deny it, but that doesn't mean that anything is gonna.. can happen. I'm.. sorry if I.. Lead you to believe it could but Stiles you have to find someone else. Someone worthy of-"  
  
"Worthy?! Shouldn't that be my decision?"  
  
Derek stands abruptly, placing his hands on the table and leaning into Stiles.  
"Yeah your decision. But respect my decision not to do this. And don't.." He screws his hands into fists an shuts his eyes. "Please don't ask again" he breaths, and tears away, disappearing out of the cafe before Stiles can reply, before he can look him in the eyes after being reduced to begging. Because that's what Stiles does to him.  
  
He gets into the Camaro, lifting the clutch and slamming his foot down on the accelerator, tyre spinning out of the café’s car park and shifting into fifth gear quickly down the motorway.

Derek doesn’t go home that night, not until the early hours of the morning, and even then not alone. He drives for a _long_ time, right out of town, circling down to the coast. He returns back to town that evening and hits one of the clubs he usually avoids. He finds some faceless red head with a nice rack who doesn’t talk too much and takes her back with him.

Slipping his jacket off when they stumble into his apartment, he checks his phone. There’s a text from Stiles that doesn’t quite make sense, and two missed calls, also from him. Derek suspects he’s done similar to him. _~~Hopefully~~_ Probably minus the cheap hook up.

He holds down the power button, shoving the phone back into his pocket and leading Megan or Mary or whatever her name was up to his room.

She’s different to Stiles in every way. Not that he’s thinking of Stiles. But.. she’s not soft and pliant like he is. She won’t do what he wants. Her hands are.. _everywhere_. It’s irritating. She talks to, the whole time. Not like Stiles, not his mindless tumble of words that the boy can’t control. She growls a long rehearsed list of pet names. _Baby. Sweetie. Sexy._ She swears like a sailor too. Even when she’s coming.  
Stiles.. had _babbled_ incessantly at the start but had fallen silent before he came, his eyes wide an in awe.  
She insists on hugging him afterwards too. Wrapping her arms around him. Suffocating him.

When Derek wakes up he feels nauseous. Like, really nauseous. Which he’s not used to, being as how Werewolves hardly ever get sick.  
He stumbles to the bathroom, wondering if he’s going to get sick but nothing. He swings on the cold tag, splashing his face and taking a few sips to calm  himself.

 _Guilt._ Why does he always have something to feel guilty about?

Megan takes a ridiculously long time to get out of his apartment. Suddenly she has a lot to say and even when he gets her past the door she’s scribbling her number on the back of his hand, telling him to call her. ‘Yeah sure’. Not gonna happen.

He grits his teeth when he re-enters his bedroom, stripping his bed in an angry frenzy, bundling the sheets out for washing. He can still smell her though. In his space. On him.  
He drags his sorry arse into the shower and scrubs at his skin, as if removing her scent will remove his memories.

It’s 2 o’clock before he realizes he hasn’t even switched his phone on yet. It starts buzzing immediately, three new texts. He rolls his eyes, expecting them to all be from Stiles. But none of them are.

**11:45  
Peter: ** _I think you’d better come to the Hale house._

**12:03  
Peter: ** _Seriously. Alpha alert._

**13:39  
Peter: ** _How you are in charge of a pack is beyond me. This is exactly why we’re in trouble. I don’t know what you are so busy doing  but if you don’t get you’re big alpha-butt here asap I’m taking matters into my own hands ;)_

Derek clenches and unclenches his fists, angry and nervous at Peter’s contacting him.

He can smell the trouble before he's even out the car.  
He skids to a stop, ramming on the hand break and darting from the car. But it's not quite how he expected it.  
  
Nixon is on the porch of the old Hale house. He's wearing smart black trouser and shoes, a grey blazer over a white v-necked tshirt, the picture if polished. Except he isn't. Three large gashes mark the tshirt from collar to mid stomach, one of the sleeves of his blazer is ripped at the seem and blood, he's covered in blood. Some of his wounds even appear to still be oozing the red liquid.  
  
He shuffles on the charred wooden porch upon spotting Derek, holding his hands up in surrender.  
  
"Ah, you made it. At last" Peter slides off one of the railings. Derek handy even noticed him there.  
  
"You did this?" He asks, eyes flitting from his uncle to the alpha in confusion.  
  
Peter snorts. "Not my handy work" he shrugs. "Have a listen to what he's got to say though, and ill reserve my 'I told you so' for er, after" and he slinks into the house. "I'll let you call the others" he calls over his shoulders.  
  
Derek's eye fall back to Nixon his shuffles his back up against the house. He's breathing is laboured but his wounds are slowly healing.  
His natural instinct is to rip his head off, or something similar. But lucky for Nixon he has too many questions.  
  
"What, the hell are you doing here?" He growls, clenching his fists and baring his elongated teeth.  
  
Nixon drops his head back against the wall of the house, his eyes are clouded with pain and for the first time Derek realises how sick he looks. His face is pale ad drawn and deep purples bruises sit under  each of his eyes.  
  
"I came to warn you, would you believe it" his voice is bitter and cracked and he already seemed broken beyond what Derek could do.  
  
"Why should I believe anything you say?"  
  
"Listen!" Peter calls from the house. Derek growls. He's the alpha. He doesn't have to listen to him. But he's also his nephew so he tries.  
  
Nixon wheezes a deep breath an makes to stand but Derek cuts him off quickly, his boot-clad foot pressed firmly into the intruders chest, an angry growl accompanying the movement and Nixon rescinds instantly, holding his hands up in surrender.  
Derek doesn't remove his foot but does loosen some of the pressure.  
  
"Their coming. Alphas. Two of them. They're.. they think they are descendants of an old pack who inhabited this region. They're trying to claim it back"  
  
"Why're you alone? Where's your pack?" He asks, hardly listening to Nixon's attempt at an explanation.  
  
Nixon's piercing emerald eyes fart to the floor. He licks his lips and shudders. "Dead" he croaks. "They... they killed my pack"  
  
Derek doesn't want to believe him. He wants to call him a liar and..  
But he can't help it. His gut is so sure. There's something incredibly broken about the alpha that wasn't last time they met.  
  
"That still doesn't answer why you're here?" He lets himself shift back into human form but doesn't soften his voice or stance.  
  
"I need help. They fight.. differently. They have.. have knives with wolfsbane. I-I don't know how. Maybe they're immune"  
  
It explains why his wounds aren't healing..  
  
"So you came here, expecting help and protection?" Derek shakes his head. "Are you mad?!" He bellows.  
  
Nixon looks up again, holding harsh honest eye contact with him.  
"You have... humans, in your pack. They will kill them instantly. Without a second thought. They did it to the pack above mine"  
  
Derek's heart stops for a slot second before booming back in faster than ever. Stiles.  
  
He rips his foot away. "You, tried to kill Stiles. Why wouldn't ever believe that  you came here to save him?"  
  
Nixon chuckles bitterly. "I didn't.. it's not.. It's not what you think"  
  
"Tell me!" Derek demands crossly.  
  
"I.. I've been an alpha for ten years. I'm.. I need a mate." He staring hard at the floor and he's sounding more and more defeated. "I.. want.. Need a mate. I think there's something wrong with me. Every time I but someone they just die! I don't know what to do!"  
  
Derek's mind wanders to thoughts of Paige but he tries to push those thoughts away.  
  
"Stiles is special."  
  
"Stiles doesn't want to be turned!"  
  
Nixon shrugs. "Whatever. I've told you the truth. You know why I'm here. What're you gonna do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay in update. Next one will be quicker (and better, not happy with this one)


	8. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek struggles to keep his resolution of staying away from Stiles with Nixon in the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Christmas etc. ;p

Against his better judgement Derek summons his pack.   
They're unusually obedient. Perhaps they sense the urgency in his voice but they all turn up quickly.   
  
Derek's helped Nixon into the house, dropping him on an armchair. He hasn't helped him heal his wounds yet.   
  
Scott pounces straight away and had to be restrained which takes Derek holding him back whilst Allison stands between him and the alpha.   
Boyd, Erica and Isaac are clearly confused but more ready to listen to what Derek has to say.   
  
Derek doesn't care what any of them think really. It's Stiles he's worried about.   
Sure enough as soon as the kid steps through the front door he freezes, grabbing the door frame to steady himself. That's when he shoots Derek a look of utter betrayal that feels like a vice on his chest. He opens his mouth to explain or apologise but that's when Scott lurches for Nixon and he has other problems on his hands.   
  
Half an hour later he's finally settled his pack down and got them to listen to the situation to a somewhat mixed response.   
  
"So what now?" Lydia asks pointedly, folding her arms across her chest and raising an eyebrow at Derek. She's probably the only member of the 'pack' possible of intimidating him. That was probably why he usually 'forgot' to invite her to pack meetings such as this. Not that Lydia in anyway minded, or wanted to attend, but occasionally Allison dragged her along. And tonight was one of those occasions.   
  
He sets his shoulders. "We vote."  
  
Peter snorts from where he is lounged on one of the sofas, seemingly enjoying this a bit too much.   
  
"Seriously. We cast a vote. Democracy or whatever. Er" he rubs his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. How is this gonna work? "Okay so, if you believe.. Nixon.. Er.. raise your hand?"  
  
They all look skeptical but go along with it anyway. Allison, Boyd, Isaac vote to believe Nixon. To help him and to prepare. Allison got all teary eyed over his mate-story. Boyd was silent. Isaac didn't think it was worth risking it being a lie.   
  
Scott, Erica and Lydia call bullshit. Scott ad Erica vote to dismember Nixon, or something similar. Lydia says she doesn't care either way and its not their problem an can she go home now?  
  
Peter chuckles again, holding his hands behind his head an raising an eyebrow at his nephew. "An empasse. How unfortunate. Now you must cast your vote, alpha" he says the word with just a twinge of bitterness that probably only Derek catches.   
  
He swallows, his eyes travelling over to Stiles. He's folded into one of the grubby old armchairs, hugging his knees to his chest. He hasn't taken his eyes off Nixon since he arrived. His expression is unreadable. His heart beat steady.   
He clears his throat.   
  
"I.. He tried to kill us. Why should we save him"  
  
Allison casts her eyes down but Peter sits up.   
  
"I think he's telling the truth. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to tear him limb from limb. Maybe we can still. But we can't afford to be unprepared for an attack"  
  
Derek groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You're just being awkward!"  
  
"I'm still pack aren't I? Does my vote not count?"  
  
"Now we're tied again" Erica points out unhelpfully.   
  
"Derek and I are alpha's.." Scott mumbles.   
  
Derek is about to agree with this sentiment when Stiles says the first thing he's said since arriving.   
  
"I believe him"  
  
Derek's head snaps round in surprise. "You..what?"  
  
He finally drags his eyes off Nixon and looks at Derek, shrugging. "I believe him. A.. all of it" he adds, presumably referring to the whole 'mate' thing but how the hell can Stiles be so damn forgiving? Does he not remember the other week?!  
"I think we should help him, and prepare. My vote sways the vote" he points out matter-of-factly.   
  
Derek can rely on Scott to kick up a fuss and say all the things he can't out-loud. 'How can you trust him, he nearly raped you, he nearly turned you against your will, it's probably a trap' but Lydia agrees to go along with what Stiles wants and therefore the decision is pretty much made.   
  
He begins divvying up roles. Lydia and Allison are going down to the library to look up any records from the online papers regarding previous attacks, any information how they attacked or how quickly they’re travelling.  
Erica and Boyd set off to circle the preserve to check it’s clear and Scott and Isaac head into town to check the same thing.  
  
"I'll go get the wolfsbane" Stiles, bouncing up from the couch.   
  
"What?" Derek asks, flustered.   
  
"For Nixon. He's.. not looking so good"  
  
Stiles disappears and Derek's looks down at Nixon who's watching boy intently, his eyes lingering on the door long after he's left.   
Derek can feel his blood boil. Sure, Stiles might be stupid enough to forgive him but that doesn't mean he has to.    
  
"He has a big heart" Nixon croaks weakly, obviously well aware of Derek's train of throats.  
  
Derek growls low and threatening. "Don't tell me about my pack. You're lucky. No one else would offer you such remorse"  
  
"I'm aware." Nixon tries to shift himself, obviously at gear pain. His skin looks almost see-through now. "That's why he's special. Unique. He beautiful too-"  
  
"Shut up!" Derek yells, his hand instantly around his throat, he's elongated teeth chomping in his face. "You don't know him! You never will! He's too good for you. Too good for any of -"  
  
"Derek!" Stiles trips back into the room with a selection of vials, a lighter and some bandages. “What are you doing, let go!”

Derek startles like a dog caught chewing up the sofa, but the guilt lasts only moment before it’s replaced again with the more common anger. “I find it odd how quickly you’re willing to forgive  someone who not so long ago tried to rape you” he snarls, releasing Nixon’s throat and stepping back, still baring his teeth.

“Well before I was holding out for _someone_ else, but now that’s out the window…” Stiles hums, barging him out the way with his hips and kneeling on the couch. He holds the crepe bandages between his teeth and pushes Nixon’s t-shirt up to reveal the worst of the wounds. The Alpha leans back against the couch, watching Stiles until he begins to touch the wounds when his eyes scrunch shut in pain.  
“You okay? Ooh, sorry” Stiles chats away as he lights wolfsbane and rubs it into the wounds. Derek remembers the first time he had to do this. The wolfsbane bullet in his arm. The poor kid had been so freaked out. Now he was calm and collected, uttering reassurance, hands working deftly, covering the vast expanses of the cuts in a few seconds.

Derek sighs. He’s not that same kid anymore. He keeps thinking he is, but that was two years ago. Stiles has known about werewolves, lived in this world for two years. And he’s still going. He’s helped them right from the start too and is still helping now.

Stiles turns around glaring. “I can’t work with you watching me. Don’t you have something you should be doing?”

Embarrassed at being caught, and sure he can see a smirk playing at Nixon’s lips, he scurries off into the kitchen to make some calls.

He gets of the phone ten minutes later with Luize, a werewolf who inhabits the coast about fifteen miles south who had confirmed Nixon’s story.  
Derek slams the phone down, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes to help himself think but he couldn’t. Stiles chatting penetrates his mind, his soft voice. A gentle laugh.  
Both his fists are clenched. He’s about to burst out of the kitchen and forcibly separate Stiles from Nixon when his phone rings again. He takes a moment to get his emotions in check before hitting answer.

“Hi” Allison’s voice is bright as usual, despite the situation.  
“Did you get anything?” Is all he replies. He can hear Lydia in the background _‘If he’s going to talk to us like that then why should we do anything for him?_ “If we don’t successfully defend our territory it’s going to be a problem for everyone, not just me” he reminds her.  
“She knows that” Allison soothes. “Look we found two reports of disappearances locally, one from Nixon’s pack and one further north. Four days between the attacks”  
“I see” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, thank you”

He hangs up the phone and slips back into the lounge. Stiles is sat at the far end of the sofa from Nixon, his back to the arm, his legs hugged to his chest, listening intently as the alpha recants some story about Europe.

Peter is sat across in an armchair, watching the conversation more than listening.

“Stiles, we’re going”

Stiles head snaps up, startled, obviously not realizing Derek was there. He frowns a little but says nothing.

“Peter, you and _Nixon_ hold down fort here, I’ll ring if I get anything. Stiles and I are going to check the edge of town, I don’t want anyone even _entering_ Beacon Hills” he orders, snatching his leather jacket and car keys off the hook and glaring impatiently at Stiles.

Stiles hesitates before scrambling off the couch and following him out the house.

“Why am I coming with you?” He is able to keep his mouth shut for all of two minutes before the questions begin. He struggles to keep up with the brisk pace Derek is setting, marching through the preserve, tripping several times on the uneven ground.

Derek grabs the top of his arm roughly, stopping him from falling flat on his face.

“Will you be careful?” 

“If you tell me what we’re doing and why I have to come”

“We’re going to cut off this pack before they can enter our town and harm anyone else. And you’re coming with me because I’m hardly going to leave you in a house alone with my psycho uncle and an Alpha who tried to kill you”

“I didn’t think you wanted to be alone with me?” Stiles points out unhelpfully. Derek stops abruptly, causing Stiles to walk straight into the back of him.   
He spins round, glaring at Stiles, because he had no other option and why is Stiles bringing that up now, but before he gets any of this out he’s hit with the over-whelming scent of Nixon on Stiles. He’d been cleaning his wounds and had the wolfs blood on his hands and tshirt and Derek visibly recoils, baring his teeth, unable to supress a snarl. Stiles is his pack, smelling another wolf on him is more than wrong.

“What?” Stiles demands although he’s obviously sensed Derek’s change in moods as the sour spike of caution radiates from him. He glares defiantly at Derek but his heart beat gives away that he’s not quite as sure as he’s pretending to be.

“You.. you stink of Nixon”

Stiles shoulders sag and he rolls his eyes. “ _Rea_ \- I thought there was actually something wr-“

“It is wrong” Derek cuts him off gruffly because Stiles could never understand what it was like to smell others wolves on your pack. It’s almost the equivalent of seeing your partner kissing someone else.

Suddenly they’re both still and even Stiles has fallen silent except for his heavy breathing. They’re alone in the forest and Derek is painfully aware of why he hadn’t wanted to be alone with Stiles. It was becoming hard enough keeping his hands off him at the best of times, especially now he knew what it felt like to be touched by the boy, but his overpowering wolf senses were crying out for him to scent mark his pack and it was taking every inch of his will-power to keep the foot distance between them so he said nothing either.

They stayed like this for a moment. Derek could pinpoint the exact moment Stiles mind processed what was happening. A twitch on his brow. The slight increase in his heart rate, god, when had Derek come to know him so well.

“Y.. you want to scent mark me”

Derek wasn’t sure if it was a question or a realisation but his voice was shaky and nervous and it was by no means an invitation. He swallowed, _gulped_ almost. He gave a small inclination of his head, perhaps a nod, perhaps disappointment in himself in not being able to keep better control of his emotions.

Stiles takes a moment to let that sink in before he responds. “You.. can. As pack. Not.. as a mate. I don’t.. is there a difference? If there’s not then don’t worry but I guess if we do run into these other wolves it would be a good idea if I smelt-“

Derek growls low in his throat, lurching forward and grabbing a handful of Stiles shirt, pulling him flush against him and burying his nose against Stiles collar bone, nuzzling a soft trail from there up the taught tendons of his neck to the hollow behind his ear, stopping briefly to pay extra attention to his pulse point.  
Stiles breath is caught in his throat, his heart is hammering and his whole body is frozen in place but Derek senses no fear. He thinks.. he thinks he can smell want. Not just his own. But he won’t let himself believe it.  
He swaps sides, rubbing his cheek gently against Stiles. He nuzzles over the pulse point again. His tongue flicks out, scraping against the carotid artery, just to be thorough, eliciting another sharp intake of breath from Stiles, who’s hand snaps up, grasping his the corner of Derek’s jacket to steady himself.

Derek inhales is scent on Stiles with satisfaction, resting his forehead against the boys rapidly rising and falling shoulder before tearing himself away.

“Better” he mutters and starts off again towards the edge of town as if nothing had happened, except it had and it was written all over his face and he couldn’t afford to let Stiles see.  
  


He doesn’t catch the scent of other wolves until they reach the edge of the preserve. He stills, tilting his face into the wind, letting the unfamiliar scent wash over him.

“They’re here”


	9. When We Win We Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, sorry for the delay in posting! I'm really not happy with this chapter as I cannot write action for shit and it's kind of superfluous to what I'm trying to do with the story but yeah..  
> And secondly, just, thank you for your feedback :) So appreciated. Makes me think doing this instead of my coursework is a good idea.. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> (and note I will need more than one more chapter to wrap this up!)

Stiles watched Derek. He was stood on the edge of the precipice, back straight, fists clenched. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flared, breathing in the scent of the intruders in an attempt to pinpoint their location.

“O..okay. So should we..” Stiles takes a step back, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder the direction they had come from. “Go.. and get the others?”

Derek doesn’t answer straight away, focussing. “Come on” he growls, making a grab at Stiles arm so he can drag the unwilling teen along with him.

Stiles stumbles behind, wincing at the sharp pain in his wrist under the alpha’s too tight grip. “Derek, I..” he begins but he’s shushed aggressively.  
He’s marched like this along the cliff until Derek stops abruptly, leaving Stiles to walk straight into the back of him. Derek growls annoyed but says nothing and lets Stiles pull his hand free, massaging his wrist.

Suddenly a twig snaps behind them and they both spin to see two dark figures approaching carefully through the forest.   
Derek absently brushes Stiles behind him just as a man and a woman, presumably the wolf-duo that had killed Nixon’s pack, step into the light. They show no sign of wariness which instantly has Stiles anxious.

“Ah, if it isn’t little Derek Hale, all-grown-up” the woman speaks first, taking an extra step forward and clasping her hands together in mock-delight. She had short, wavy red hair which matched the burning colour of her eyes perfectly. Both wolves were dressed in all black hunting gear with large Samari style knifes strapped to their backs. And apparently they know Derek. Stiles grits his teeth in a grimace as Derek straitens his shoulders defiantly.

 “Greg, Greta. I thought my mother had made it clear to you last time you were here, this is our land, and you are not welcome here”.   
Derek’s voice genuinely sends a shiver down Stiles spine. He didn’t exactly find him pleasant at the best of times and the whole pack had witnessed him lose his cool on numerous occasions but this was something else. Stiles bites his lip, suddenly not feeling quite so safe with Derek has his only defence.   
He plunges his hands into the front pocket of his hoody, shuffling a little to hide himself almost fully behind Derek. He knew no matter how invisible he made himself all three of the wolves would be able to hear his deafening heartbeat, even he could, but it was natural instinct.

The woman, _Greta_ , smiles even more brightly, revealing a set of razor sharp white teeth. “Well, Talia’s not here now is she? Besides, we have some new.. _bargaining tools_ ” and as if practised, which both wolves took hold of their knives hilts and pulled them from their shafts. It was so Crouching Tiger Stiles might have laughed in a different situation.  
Stiles notices small etchings along each of the blades, like Latin. Too small to read, not that Stiles would have been able to either way. Even stranger was the pale violent glow each of the swords seemed to _possess_. _Wolfsbane._ The swords were enchanted.

“Too bad I’m not in the mood to bargain” Derek crouches slightly, shifting, sizing up the opponents. Stiles automatically dropped an inch or two lower behind him, but not quick enough to catch Greg’s eyes. _Fear._ Was he scared of Derek? Greta didn’t seem in the slightest perturbed by the idea of a fight but her partner looked decidedly less enthusiastic.

Greta began to step lightly closer, in a circular way. Derek moved to mirror her but Stiles wasn’t quick enough and finally her fire-red eyes landed on him.

“Don’t you even want to hear my pitch?” she purrs. “It just got more interesting. See, I was under the impression you had nothing left to lose..” her eyes flickering, an almost hungry expression on her face. Stiles gulps, heartbeat no doubt increasing again.

Derek’s shoulders stiffen as Greta continues to circle round them to the left and Greg slowly steps to the right.

“I have no intention of losing _anything_ else” Derek growls, reaching an arm behind him and snatching hold of the front of Stiles jumper and pulling him flush against his back.  
Stiles braces his hand between Derek’s shoulder blades to steady himself and becomes aware of their heavy rising and falling. Subconsciously his thumb brushes small strokes across the older man’s black tshirt in an attempt to calm him. The comment about ‘ _nothing left to loose’_ had obviously riled him, as of course it was intended to.

“A human mate, how peculiar. It’s a shame, if you’d chosen another wolf, you might _actually_ have a chance against us”

Suddenly Stiles is grabbed from behind, a strangled yelp escapes his lips as his hand is torn free from Derek’s tshirt and within a split-second he is being held in basically a headlock by Greg, back against the edge of the clearing, ten or fifteen feet from Derek. These wolves were fast.

Derek’s eyes flash briefly with something akin to panic but the emotion is soon covered . He rubs his hands together, shrugging his shoulders. “Fine. Kill him. Because I’m sure the two of you will survive me going feral” he cocks his head to the side, regarding Greg, his eyes never once meeting Stiles.

Greg’s grip on the teenager is not rough but firm enough for him to know there’s no escaping.

Greta shifts now, swinging her knife through the air only inches from Derek who doesn’t so much as flinch.   
“This is our land. It was inhabited by our ancestors and we’re here to take it back.” She taps the sharp point of the knife, drawing a small bead of blood on the pad of her index finger which she licks off with fatal seductiveness. “Wolfsbane. Kind of.. a muted sweetness. You wanna try?” then she cackles. “Wait, you can’t! I forget, other wolves are still debilitated by a silly little herb.”

Derek and Greta are fully circling each other now, slowly. It reminds Stiles of watching the Discovery Channel once. It was a documentary on Peregrine Falcons. There was a particular bit of film that had stuck out for Stiles, that he’d found particularly eerie, of the falcon circling its prey. They sort of.. floated, they were so slow, yet so precise .. well that’s what this reminded him of, except neither wolf was the prey here. Both were predators. And it was fucking terrifying.

“So here’s the deal. Leave. Sign us the land. And live.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Or..”

“Die” Greta shrugs happily. “The choice is yours little boy. Although, I guess threatening someone who’s whole family has died with death seems a little futi-“

She never finishes. One final blow regarding Derek’s family was all it took to completely wither his already wavering self-control. He launched at her full pelt. His speed and agility were ridiculous, he was just a blur for Stiles slow human eyes but Greta was quick too and she had the knife. 

Derek’s howl made Stiles shudder and suddenly the alpha was still, clutching his bicep which was oozing thick, dark red blood. His face was etched with pain and determination, his eyes dropping to his arm for only a split second to inspect his wound which he obviously deemed insignificant enough. He snarls.

Greta just laughs again, a cruel, evil laugh, her eyes sliding over to where Stiles is still being held captive by her mate. He feels the wolfs grip tighten on his arms which are pinned behind his back. He can almost feel them creak and he buckles, trying to angle himself so that the least pressure possible is being put on his bones. He’s broken his Ulna before and is not in a rush to repeat the experience, especially as his arm has only just come out of the sling for his fractured collar bone from his last werewolf encounter. _When will he ever learn?_

“Darling, end him and come help me!” she cheers.

Greg’s grip tightens again and this time Stiles can’t control the shriek of pain that tears from his lips as something crunches at his elbow and he crumples to the floor. He doesn’t have time to inspect his arm because sharp jab in his ribs alerts him to the toe of a boot rolling him over onto his back. Pain blurs out his peripheral vision but he can still make out Greg stood, towering six feet above him, an unreadable expression on his face. The pain caused by the wolfs foot worsens as he pushes more weight down on Stiles chest, making him gasp out.

“Stop! Please! Sor- _stop!_ ” Stiles gulps. He’s not sure where Derek is until he hears another cry of pain. He sounds further away which makes Stiles panic more. He tries to wriggle free only to experience the excruciating pain on his left elbow again demanding all of his attention and thus debilitating him.  
He’s not one to give up but things don’t seem hopeful until he hears a familiar voice.

“ _Stiles!”_

All of a sudden the foot is off of his chest Greg literally _flies_ off of him, colliding with a tree ten feet away. Before he can gage more of the situation Scott’s concerned face blocking his vision. 

“Dude, Stiles, are you okay?” he crouches and tries to move him only to be met with blood-curdling screams from Stiles.

“Not-the-elbow” he gasps, eyes watering but he’s _not crying okay?_

Scott looks down and visibly shudders. “It’s dislocated, you need to pop it back into place” he tells him, repositioning his hands under Stiles armpits and hauling him to his feet that way, steadying him when the human sways but doesn’t fall.

From then it all seems to end as quickly as it had begun.

Holding his best friend tightly for support, Stiles eyes scan the clearing. The whole pack was there, leaving Greta and Greg pitifully outnumbered. They had obviously not accounted for the fact that Derek had created his own pack.  
Peter has Greta pinned to the floor, Nixon is standing over her, fully shifted, eyes glaring red with anger and hurt and determination. Stiles looks away just in time, if hearing the deranged werewolf’s last cry, starting at aguish and descending into pain before falling silent with a sickening slicing sound isn’t enough to make him physically sick, seeing it would have been.   
Stiles see’s black red blood splatter the trees in front of him, almost ten feet from where Greta had lain and the smell is thick and coppery. Along with the pain he doubles over, gagging. 

Greg’s howl is that of pure pain, so emotional it is actually physical. The drops to his knees. Derek and Boyd approach him slowly.

“Your turn” Boyd smiles.

Stiles think that maybe Greg doesn’t deserve to die. He likes to think that no one really deserves to die, but he knew that trying to explain this to Nixon, when face to face with the wolves that had killed his pack would be futile. He weighs this up against the knowledge that a wolves usually lose their shit after losing their mates as Boyd rips a chunk out of his throat and that’s the end of that.

Stiles drops back against the tree behind him and closes his eyes in exasperation but unsurprisingly his peace lasts mere seconds before Scott’s angry voice penetrates his deep breathing exercises.

_“What the hell were you thinking?! Dragging Stiles out here. He could have been killed!”_

“We came out to look for them just like the rest of the pack! How was I supposed to know that we would be the ones to find them!” Derek yells back but his voice lacks the anger it had expressed when addressing Greta a short while earlier.

Stiles forces his eyes open, the pulsing pain in his elbow dumbing down all his senses. 

Isaac and Boyd flank Scott, holding him back as he bares his teeth at an almost forlorn looking Derek.

“Stiles is _pack!_ You are supposed to protect him! He’s _human!_ ”

“We can’t afford to lose another battle!”

“Scott” Stiles calls quietly, waving his good arm goofily, getting all of their attentions. “Stop.. he didn’t-“ 

“He didn’t _think_! That’s the problem! We’re are meant to run this pack together but how can you work with someone so, so… selfish”

Derek flinches. “Stiles, I’m sorry. I..”

Stiles opens his mouth to bat away his apology, maybe say something else about how even when they win they lose because they still suffer this ongoing battle within the pack but everything suddenly falls silent for Stiles, followed a moment later by the floor rushing up to meet his face and his world going blank.   
Apparently, his pain tolerance: 3 year old girl.


	10. Amour, toux et fumée En ne secret sont demeurée.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is more sure than ever that him and Stiles cannot be together. Stiles doesn't really care what anyone else thinks.

When Stiles comes to he’s in the hospital, somewhat of a home away from home for him these days. He recognises the sterile, antiseptic smell before he even opens his eyes to see the ward for himself. It makes him feel a bit like a wolf. He sniggers to himself.

“What’re you laughing about?”

Stiles eyes snap open. Bright lights sting his over sensitive pupils at first until the blur focusses on his dad’s relieved looking face. He smiles, edging himself up carefully on his right elbow.

“Hey” Stiles smiles dopily.

“Hey kid” the Sheriff mirrors, striding over to the bed and squeezing his sons hand. “Care to explain how you dislocated your elbow and cracked a rib? You told me you were having a movie night” he quirks an unimpressed eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest but Stiles can see through any attempt to look severe.

“Fighting crime?” Stiles tries. 

“Yeah right, Scott said you fell down a staircase. Stiles” his dad runs a hand through his hair. “I cant.. wrap you up in bubble wrap and keep you safe in a padded room” he shakes his head.

Stiles grins light headed. “We should totally try that. Sounds like fun!”

The Sheriff doesn’t laugh though. The opposite. Suddenly he looks very serious, all the lines on his face deepening. He sits down beside Stiles bed and sighs. “Stiles.. I.. don’t shoot me.. this was.. an accident, right?” he asks quietly, unable to meet his sons eyes.

Stiles blinks in utter disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, shocked that his father had thought it had gotten _that bad._ It hadn’t. Not really. He’d never _seriously_ considered taking his own life, if not just because he knew he couldn’t leave his dad. “No! Dad I.. no!” he stumbles over his words, desperate to wipe those thoughts from his dads head.

The Sheriff drops back against the chair with a loud sigh. “Thank god” he mumbles, pushing a hand through his short hair and closing his eyes for a minute.

“Dad I’m sorry you thought-“

“No it’s okay. I’m sorry” the Sheriff gets up, forcing a smile. “I’ll call the nurse, then we should be able to go”

  
Turns out Stiles had blacked out from the pain of his dislocated elbow which, pfft, wasn’t the manliest thing he’d ever done. Scott had called an ambulance and the paramedics had popped his bone back on the spot (Scott had fainted). His arm was now purple and swollen but mostly numb. He was heavily dosed up with Tramadol for his fractured rib and had an icepack for his arm he was discharged, _again,_ from hospital.

He follows his dad up the steps and into their house, heading straight for the kitchen. Derek had called the pack meeting at the ungodly hour of 9am on Saturday morning but it was now gone 6 in the evening.

“Er, I’ve really gotta get back to the station soon. I had deputy Carter cover for me when I got the call you were in hospital again but he was meant to finish hours ago, so I gotta go relieve him”

Stiles opens the fridge, searching inside. He’s starved. “Yeah dad that’s fine” he says lightly, pushing aside a carton of juice in hunt of fizzy. He digs out a can of Fanta and turns to smile at his dad.

The Sheriff rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “You gonna be okay home alone?”

“Yeah dad, I’ll be fine” Stiles rolls his eyes indignantly and unthinkingly knocks his elbow back to shut the fridge door, yelping out in pain at his mistake.  
  
"Stiles!” his dad shakes his head, exsasperated. “Be careful! Here, take some more of these-" he opens the paper bag Melissa had dispensed for them on their way out of A&E and pulls out the carton of painkillers.  
  
"Dad! I'm fine!" Stiles protests as he's practically force fed the tablets. He swallows them with a dry gulp of Fanta and glares. "I'm gonna go lie down for a bit"  
  
"Good idea, but remember: if you have any breakthrough pain-"  
  
"I'll take some more tablets yeah I know dad, alright?"  
  
"Right. I'll hand about for half an hour until you’re comfy. Before I leave I’ll come check on you-"  
  
"Just let me rest okay, I’m fine, seriously. I'll text you if I need anything"  
  
The Sheriff glares. It's one of his pet-peeves when Stiles texts him when they are both at home, but Stiles knows he'll get away with it given circumstance. 

“You can go straight back to work” he suggests. He really is okay.

The sheriff mutters something under his breath about his son literally being a hazard to himself and wanders off to his office.  
  
Feeling lightheaded Stiles prances up the stairs and bursts straight through his bedroom door. He's just about to drop onto his bed when he spots Derek slumped in his computer chair.   
He catches himself half way down, arms flailing stupidly at his sides to right himself and stay stood up.   
  
"Derek!" He gasps unintelligently. Derek regards him with a stern expression but makes no indication he's about to move or even speak so Stiles picks up. "What are you doing here? I mean, last time a saw you we were in the forest but I went to hospital and you didn't come with me, Scott did, even though it was kind of your fault I was there in the first place but don't worry I forgive you-" He begins babbling but Derek gets up, cutting him off, a look of actual fear in his face as he realises a drug-addled Stiles might be worse than the usual Stiles. 

"I came to check you were alright, and er, obviously you are so.. I'll be.. heading back"  
  
"Stay!" Stiles drops down now onto the end of his bed and pats the space next to him. "You're here now, we might as well hang out!" he beams as if it's the most reasonable suggestion ever, which with Derek it certainly is not.

“Are you drunk?” Derek raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Stiles just watches his face for a moment before realising he actually needs to reply.

“What? No! I’m seventeen. I can’t drink. I’m on drugs” he says, not exactly clearing it up.

Derek looks at him for a second, something akin to pity on his face, although it’s more likely guilt, but then he backs away. “No, I er.. really gotta-“ But Stiles, perhaps not quite thinking straight because, you know, opioids, jumps up and grabs Derek’s sleeve.

“ _Nooo don’t leave! Talk to me!”_

“I don’t think-“

“You _owe_ me that much”

Derek freezes for a moment and Stiles thinks that maybe he’d gone too far, but then the older man pulls his arm free with a quiet growl and stalks back over to Stiles swivel chair like a stroppy teenager, slouching against the back and folding his arms across his chest.

Suddenly Stiles falls uncharacteristically shy under Derek's harsh stare and can't think of quite why he wanted him to stay, let alone think of something intelligible to say to fill the void. His eyes fall down to his lap and he picks at a loose thread of denim poking from the knee of his worn-out jeans.  
  
"Was there something you wanted to say?" The alpha grumbles after nearly six minutes of silence.   
A rosey blush blossoms across Stiles cheeks as he pulls the thread free, startling himself a little.   
  
"Um, nothing in particular" he shifts uncomfortably, dropping the denim strand and lacing his fingers together, aware he’s fidgeting but unable to stop.   
  
Derek nods slowly and after a minute makes to get up again. "Well, I'm glad you're alright. I'd better.." He nods at the widow and this time Stiles doesn't have the inclination to ask him to stay, it was obviously a stupid idea the first time. Derek was the last person he’d be able to get conversation from.   
  
He gets up and follows him to the window, stopping short when Derek does.   
  
"Hey I really am sorry about.. getting you hurt"   
  
"So you said” Stiles pushes a hand through his short hair. “It's okay" he shrugs dismissively.   
  
"No, Scott was right. It was my fault and.. you shouldn't forgive me so easily"  
Derek's head is hung low as he speaks but he's turned back from the window to almost face him.   
  
Stiles stops himself from repeating himself a hundredth time and instead mumbles "So why'd you do it then?"  There's no aggression in his tone, just curiosity.   
Derek huffs out a breath, kicking at the floor, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tight grey jeans and shrugging.   
  
"You do know. You never do anything just spontaneously"  
  
In another situation Derek might argue this statement but right now it seems pointless and he feels too weary to battle Stiles anymore. There’s no way to win a war of words with Stiles and he’s not in the mood to threaten him right now. "I just wanted you away from Nixon" he says, voice small.   
  
Stiles gulps, surprised at the honesty of Derek's answer. It poses a thousand questions but he has to think carefully about which one he actually asks out loud so as not to send Derek back under the armour that seems to shield his feelings.   
  
"Did you think I'd be safer with you? Genuinely" he asks, working hard to keep his voice light and free from judgment.   
  
Derek still seems to be shrinking into himself further. He shakes his head ever-so-slightly no. "I didn't.. care about that. I.. that's why you shouldn't forgive me so easily. I was being selfish"  
  
"Derek you are many things but selfish his not one of them!"  
Derek opens his mouth to protest but Stiles takes both his shoulders and shakes them a little. "Look at me. I'm deadly serious. It was wrong of Scott to call you selfish, you're one of the most selfless people I know!"  
  
He meets his eyes "You can talk" Derek growls almost accusingly.   
  
"I don't care about earlier. At the end of the day I make my own decisions. I didn't have to follow you into the preserve but I chose to"  
  
"If you hadn't-"  
  
"But I did"  
  
Derek pulls himself out of Stiles grip, wandering over to sit on the edge of his bed this time. "You saved me again. I don't.. how.."  
  
Stiles shrugs, following him over to the bed, being careful not to sit down too close to him. "It's a wonder what a quick text can do. Although what kind of idiot attempts to take on two wolfsbane immune wolves with wolfsbane weapons whilst protecting a human I don't know" he tries to joke but Derek still isn’t lightening up.  
  
"I didn't even see you send a text"  
  
"High school baby. How do you get through that shit without learning how to send texts from your pocket" he winks cheekily and yeah, Derek can sense that he really isn't mad as the teen shuffles cautiously closer.

The alpha sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs frustratedly and shaking his head, a humourless smile stretching slightly across his lips. “Stiles, I can smell you” he says without looking up from his lap.

Stiles snorts indignantly. “Well sorry, I haven’t exactly had the chance to shower”.

“Not that”

Another silence falls between them, stretching out uncomfortably long until Stiles giggles and disrupts it.

“ _Dude_ ” he chuckles. “Now I’m not scared of you.. you yelling at me.. kind of has a different effect”

Derek doesn’t mean to laugh. Doesn’t want to, but he can’t help a little snort. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s fighting so damn hard not to smile because no, he came here to check Stiles was okay with it firmly in his mind that today had proved exactly why they couldn’t be together, his feelings made him too damn irrational, and yet here he was sat on his _bed_ , his whole bedroom reeking of sexual tension and he knows that if he asked, Stiles would give. “You- _that’s not normal_ ” he manages to squeeze out as neutrally as possible.

“When have I _ever_ claimed to be normal” Stiles closes the gap between them. They are now sitting shoulder to shoulder on the edge of his bed.

“You know, today just proved what I said before” he tries because Stiles desire is not dampening down.

“Hmm” he hums in reply, not sounding like he’s really listening, hazel eyes watching out his window.

“About… _us_ ”

“There’s an us?”

“No!” Derek blushes stupidly, which, werewolves should not blush. “And there can’t be. This proves it. If I didn’t hurt you myself I’d end up getting you hurt..”

“Maybe I like getting hurt”

Derek _gulps._ It’s.. obscene. It’s like he’s audibly swallowing his desire. “This cant-“ he chokes.

“It already has” Stiles whispers, turning to face him. They stare into each others eyes then, and for the first time Stiles _feels_ Derek let his guard slip, just minutely, but he’s not going to let an opportunity like this pass him by. He leans forward, as quick as he can gracefully so Derek has minimal time to come to his senses, and locks their lips together.   
Derek’s lips are surprisingly soft and immediately pliant which he also hadn’t expected. Derek seems to relax into him, like a weight is lifted and Stiles reaches, cupping his cheeks, tilting his face to deepen the kiss, his tongue gently lapping Derek’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth for him, whining quietly. His, firmer hands are suddenly grabbing Stiles shirt, twisting into it and pulling him Stiles skinny body to his lean, muscular one.

They kiss like it’s the last time they’ll get the chance, and maybe both of them believe it could be. Eventually Derek pulls away, resting his forehead against Stiles, closing his eyes and inhaling heavily.  
  
“I can’t.. protect you” he breaths and if they hadn’t been so close Stiles would never have heard.

“I don’t need protecting”

“You think I’m bad at being an alpha, you should see how much worse I am at..” he trails off. He cant say the next words but he doesn’t have to. The implication, the fact that the thought had even crossed his mind was enough for Stiles.

“I don’t think you’re a bad alpha” he says with a little more tact than he usually possesses.

Suddenly Derek has pulled away and stood up and is half way back over to the window. He looks around as if actually searching for words. “Stiles I.. I’ve gotta sort my head out. Collect my thoughts and that”

Stiles nods, because its all he can do.

“I.. I’ll text you tomorrow” he says, the decibel raising slightly at the end as if it’s a question. He unlatches the window, lifting it open and looking back.

“You better” 

Stiles manages to fake a grin just long enough for Derek to disappear out his window, then the tears begin to flow.

“ _Shit!”_ he punches his mattress which, _ouch_ , recently re-located elbow!

He flops dramatically back on his bed, throwing his arm across his face and squeezing his eyes shut. “Crap. Fuck. Cunt. Bloody”


	11. The Art of Love is Persistence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my official smut warning. It's probably horrible, I'm blushing that anyone's gonna actually read this. But I've made you wait so long so, here it is.  
> (maybe you should just skip this chapter?)
> 
> Er, also please excuse errors, I could force myself to proof read this. 
> 
> LASTLY, the wolf pack tells me the age of consent is 18 in US?! To me this is crazy and I don't see this as in anyway underage sex but yeah, Stiles is 17 so just a warning, sorry if that makes any of you uncomfortable!

Stiles is surprised when Derek actually does text him the next day. It's nearly twelve and he's still in bed, sleeping soundly until the annoying reputation vibrations from his mobile penetrate his dreams and drag him back to the real world.   
He vaguely remembers his Dad shouting goodbye when he left for work four hours ago but other than that he'd slept soundly.   
  
_'Have errands to run. Will pass yours half twelve. Shall I pick you up?'_  
  
It was sent at 11:30. He must he really been out cold not to hear it. For someone usually so hyperactive he was really getting good night’s sleep. That’s what happens when you run with wolves.  
He rubs sleep from his eyes and reaches clumsily for his phone.  
  
 _'Sure, cya then!'_ he taps out quickly, jumping out of bed with a sudden, nervous jolt of adrenaline and hopping straight into a too hot shower.   
He gets ready in record time, pulling on some baggy, faded jeans and a lose grey v-neck, having to skip on a proper breakfast to be ready in time, instead crunching on an apple whilst trying to rub some wax into his hair and pull his usual beat-up Adidas on.   
  
He stumbles out of the door only 5 minutes after Derek's standard 'Outside' text arrives which he thinks is pretty good going but the older man doesn’t look quite so impressed.  
  
Derek doesn't even greet him, simply grumbling at him to put his seatbelt on and setting off back to the loft, faster than necessary. Pretentious car owners.   
  
When they get there Stiles sits himself down awkwardly at the far end of the couch whilst Derek grabs himself a beer as Stiles a coke, switching the tv on and flicking the volume down low.   
  
They sit in awkward silence for ten minutes before Stiles cracks.   
  
"At least put something good on!" He grabs the remote, channel hopping from 'Bondi Beach Rescue' to.. okay there's nothing on. He settles on Friends.   
  
"I've seen them all" Derek grumbles.   
  
Stiles spins, jaw dropping. "What? You've seen every episode of Friends?!"  
  
Derek shrugs nonchalantly, not looking at Stiles.   
  
"No you can't say stuff like that and then no elaborate!" He wails, poking at Derek's shoulder, trying to get his attention or turn him.   
  
Derek shrugs him off agitatedly. "I thought everyone had"   
  
"Well yeah, everyone. But not you." Stiles shakes his head, flopping against the back of the sofa. "I just can't picture you watching Friends. Like, do you laugh at the jokes? Did you want Rachel with Ross or Joey? Ooh ooh who was your favourite?" He's sat up again poking Derek who growls low in his throat.   
  
"Laura used to watch it"  
  
"Oh" Stiles falls silent because if anything's going to killing a conversation it bring up your dead sister.   
Derek obviously feels guilty bough, because he sighs, furrowing his brow.   
  
"Ross. Ross was my favourite"  
  
A smug smile tugs at Stiles lips which had been pressed in a flat line.  "Ross. No way. I would not have guessed" he turns to face Derek, pulling his leg up onto the sofa and tucking it beneath him.   
  
"He doesn't care what people think of him."  
  
"But.. Doesn't he annoy you? I thought- I mean, he talks utter shit.."  
  
"Apparently I like that"  
  
A luminescent flush of red covers Stiles cheeks and likely the rest of him and he falls quiet, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands and chewing the cuff until Derek can't bare and pulls them out if his mouth.   
  
"Stop. You'll ruin your hoody"  
  
"It's old"  
  
"Well.. it's very distracting" he says thickly.  
  
For some reason Stiles stomach does a somersault and ties itself in knots and something further down seems to.. awaken.   
He shuffles, swallowing. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything. Of himself, how he’s sitting, his hands, where should he put them? There’s a clock ticking above the TV. He can hear the wind whistling through the window to his right.  
And Derek, a looming presence next to him. Hot and intimidating and.. Stiles gulps, he’s freaking himself out unnecessarily.   
  
"Um, did you wanna talk then?"   
  
Derek leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah I guess. Can't put it off any longer" he pushes jus hands through his hair making it stick out at funny angles which quite frankly Stiles find adorable. "Er, this... us..." Derek begins but stops abruptly.

Stiles waits for him to continue his train of thought but a few minutes later and he still hasn’t he pipes in. "So, there is an us?" he tries hopefully. Derek looks up at him, his eyes wide and innocent.

"Of course there’s an us Stiles, don’t be ridiculous"

"No okay so that's something. So like, what do we wanna do with that?"

"Nothing! We can't... we can’t do anything with it. I... I can _smell_ all your emotions and I don’t want you to think your feelings aren’t reciprocated, because they are, they really are, I think we should just... leave it at that-"

"No!" Stiles cuts him off. "No, absolutely not. No way" Derek glares at him incredulously but he's had enough now. He gets up abruptly, bouncing his knees not enough movement to diffuse his energy any longer. He runs an agitated hand through his short hair and glares down at Derek who looks a little surprised and a lot confused. "I've had enough! We just keep going round in these stupid circles and I can’t do it any longer. If you don't like me, don't want to be with me then fine, we'll forget about it. But if you do then you have to drop all this martyr bullshit and just... go with it" he's actually a little out of breath when he finishes as he waits nervously for Derek's response which he's kind of almost expecting to be him getting kicked out and is more than a little shocked when a split second later Derek's body is pinning his against the wall that had been four feet away last time he'd blinked.

"You're going to regret this" the werewolf is breathing against his neck as his tongue flicks out and he licks a stripe from the base of his throat up to the sensitive hollow behind his ear and Stiles body just kind of _melts_ against the wall.

" _Huh_ no" Stiles manages to choke out sounding high pitched and flustered.

"This is me warning you" Derek's body is _hot_ against Stiles, covering every inch of him from his toes to the top of his head where one of Derek’s hand is now rested, gently encouraging it to the side to give him better access to Stiles neck. "Last chance" and my god they haven’t even _done_ anything yet and Derek's voice is already totally wrecked, Stiles has never heard him sound like that, never thought he would. And yeah, maybe ten percent of the reason his heart is racing so fast is because yeah he's a little nervous, but he would be even if Derek was.. human. But what matters is the other ninety percent which is pure excitement and affection and desire and maybe this is a really bad idea in the long run, his end game is.. well non-existent, but right now none of that matters.

"I'm gonna... _take- the risk_ " and that’s when Derek's mouth clamps around his neck, sucking, licking, biting gently, he takes a deep inhale before pulling back and looking into Stiles eyes.

"You've never done this before?"

Stiles gulps, suddenly the ten percent fear has increased to maybe.. twenty... thirty... he shakes his head, a small movement. His eyes are wide with amazement at the look of lust on Derek's face.  
Derek swallows too.

"I... _shit_ " he pulls back abruptly, a rush of cool air replacing his body, making Stiles shiver. He reaches forward, taking Derek's face in his hands, a bold move he can't really believe he's made but it just feels like he can now, already.

"It'll be fine" he tells him, trying to keep his voice steady and sound a lot more sure than he is. "I... I _trust_ you" he says, only realising as the words come out how true it is.

"I trust you" Derek nods back which isn’t really useful input to this conversation but Stiles recognises the importance of his words so doesn't point this out, he just drops his hands, one of them reaching and circling around Derek's wrist which, he can barely do, _wow_ , and pulling him gently backwards towards his bedroom.

Stiles manages to walk back into the bedroom and up next to the bed with a grace he is not used to processing. He's about to drop backwards onto the bed but Derek stops his, tilting his chin up an inch with careful fingers and offering him a shy smile before slotting his lips against Stiles and kissing him with a tenderness Stiles would never have imagined he could poses. Even the gentle touch of their lips was enough to set Stiles mind off on a whirlwind of feelings and needs and he didn’t know if he was going to survive what was to come; his knees already felt weak.   
Derek’s tongue _laps_ into Stiles mouth, dancing around his own when he’s granted access. He tries to keep it slow, romantic, but it quickly becomes desperate, like Stiles mouth is Derek’s only source of oxygen and he’s suffocating. 

One of Derek’s hands is cupping the back of Stiles head, holding them together, the other is wound into the hem of his tshirt, pulling at it for a minutes before relaxing his grip and splaying his fingers out across Stiles stomach, his touch electric.

Then they are laying on the bed and Stiles is underneath Derek and they’re both in their underwear and he’s not even sure how that happened but he’s definitely not complain, quite the opposite. Derek is licking and nipping his way down Stiles mouth, scattering kisses across his chest, gently as butterfly wings, then following with the sharp scratch of his ~~human~~ teeth, worrying the skin into a harsh red colour but never applying enough pressure to actually _hurt_.  
Then he’s at his nipple and his tongue, that tongue, is licking it roughly and when his teeth graze it Stiles can’t control the involuntary moan that escapes from his lips, torn out of him, and his hips cant up, forcing himself against Derek’s desperate for friction, for a release, because his dick hasn’t even been touched yet and he’s sure he’s about to cum like, right now.

“You okay?” Derek pants from somewhere down Stiles abdomen. He opens his mouth to assure him that he is way more than okay but Derek’s tongue fucking into his bellybutton and it’s just another moan that escapes. Then there’s a rush of cool air as his boxers are removed, followed by an overwhelming foreign heat as Derek takes Stiles into his mouth, all the fucking way down, _swallows him,_ and after that Stiles cums way too fast because that is a lot better than his hand. Like, a lot.

The white hot pleasure of orgasm envelopes him and he feels boneless as he sinks into the mattress, eyes shut, happy just t lay there forever. But Derek has other ideas. He’s maneuvering Stiles legs so they’re bent up at the knees, his feet places flat on the bed and then Derek’s mouth is licking down further…  
Stiles chokes out a gasp as Derek’s tongue lathes over his hole. It’s such a new feeling, totally different to anything he’s ever felt and he can’t even comprehend why it feels so good, maybe his nerves are on fire, maybe it’s like this for everyone, maybe it’s just Derek (he thinks it’s probably  that one) but suddenly it’s the best thing he’s ever felt and he’s addicted to that instantly. He’d assumed he would bottom, you know, the many times he’d envisioned this happening, and he hadn’t been quite sure how he’d felt about that. But if he gets this every time then hell he’d bottom for Derek anytime, anyplace.

Derek takes his time, carefully working him open, first with his tongue, then with lube and his fingers, one, two then three. Stiles whimpers and purrs the whole time, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets beneath, one finding Derek’s spare hand. They lace their fingers together and Derek holds on tight, muttering a string of broken sentences that seem to range from dirty talk to reassurance.   
Once he’s happy he’s done enough he pulls out, covering Stiles body with his again and kissing him with all the lust and passion they’d been suppressing since the trip.   
After a few minutes he pulls back, looking straight into Stiles eyes. “You’re.. amazing” he says, which Stiles isn’t expecting and just smiles at by way of response. “And I want you soo bad” he adds, killing the romance.

“Mm, I want you in me like, right now”

“Ride me”

Stiles eyes fly open at that. “Huh?”

“Ride me. Please” Derek says, actually _begging_. “I can’t.. it’s the only way I think I can control myself”

“O.. okay”

Stiles body feels like lead, reluctant as he pulls himself up and out from under Derek he drops down onto his back, looking up at Stiles with eyes clouded with want.  
Stiles straddles Derek’s hips and positions himself carefully, the tip of Derek’s cock at his entrance.

“Okay, here goes” he pants, and lowers himself. It’s only a slight burn, less painful than when he’d added the third finger, and soon he’s sitting all the way down. He’s paralysed,  totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Derek inside of him. Derek who has also gone still, hands wounds into the sheets beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clamped shut.  
It takes him a while to get up the confidence to move, carefully easing himself up and then back down again. After a few tries he gets a bit braver, pulling up almost all the way and dropping down a bit harder, then Derek’s hands are at his hips, gripping them tightly.

“Dammit, just _move_ Stiles” he growls, and Stiles can’t help but chuckle. He obeys anyway.

As it goes, Derek doesn’t last so long either, which makes him feel a little smug. He feels guilty also because it’s obvious a massive amount of Derek’s brain is focusing on keeping control but as he pulls Stiles against him and moans as he cums he can only feel so guilty.

Stiles isn’t sure what to do afterwards. He’s never done sex before so is unaware of the appropriate post-coital etiquette, so he lets Derek lead, secretly praying he isn't going to want Stiles to clean up and leave. He doesn’t.

They cuddle for a while and Stiles realises it’s now dark outside. He’s tired, his eyelids heavy, and he grumbles frustrated when Derek pries himself away but moments later he hears the shower click on, then he’s being pulled towards the bathroom and wrapped in Derek’s arms under the hot waterfall.

“So, are you my boyfriend now?” Stiles mumbles, lips brushing against Derek’s chest as he talks. One of Derek arms is wrapped around his shoulders, the other has been massaging shampoo into his scalp and is now encouraging it out.  
Derek huffs out a laugh that Stiles feels vibrate in his chest.

“If that’s what you want to call it”

“ _Boyfriend_ ” Stiles tries out. “Derek Hale, my boyfriend. You’ve met my boyfriend, Derek Hale? De-“ he’s cut off by Derek once again tilting his face up to his and kissing him deeply.

“So did we just, consummate our relationship?” Stiles wonders aloud once they’ve broken apart.

“Shut up” the older wolf hums, rejoining their lips and okay, just this once Stiles does as he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!! And again, sorry for the wait!


	12. Part. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end but I wanted to tie off eeeeverything so it's split into two. Hope this satisfies :)

"I don’t think the bow tie is necessary" Stiles rolls his eyes as Derek disappears out of view again.   
He casts his glance back down to his hardly touched biology homework. A sheet like this would usually take him twenty minutes but tonight he's distracted.   
  
He begins scribbling down another answer, but the more determined he is to finish, the less he can focus and before he’s even finished question three, his mind is wandering again.  
  
It had been easy telling the pack about him and Derek. Okay, they hadn't even had to tell them. They'd figured it out pretty quickly, werewolf senses and all. In fact, he’d gotten the impression they’d all known before it had even happened. Before him and Derek had even known. 

Prehaps.  
  
 _"It's not what it looks like!" Stiles had squeaked, leaping red faced from Derek's lap, landing a food away on the sofa. The meeting wasn't due to start for... oh shit. It was true what they said, time went quick when you were having fun.  
  
Scott had just rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest guys. We know"  
  
Stiles looked back at Derek accusingly, but his boyfriend just shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the fact they'd just been outed in the least dignified of ways.   
  
"Okay fine. Me and Derek are dating" Stiles put his hands on his hips indignantly, raising an eyebrow, challenging the others.  
  
"Fiiiinally" Erica sighed dramatically, plucking the open pack of crisps from the coffee table and dropping down into the love seat. Stiles boggles at her, until Isaac chips in.   
  
"It's stunk of sex in here for like, a fortnight" he informed Stiles matter-of-factly with a slight crinkle of his nose.   
  
"I think it's cute!" Allison smiled at them encouragingly as she pulled Scott down to sit next to her.  He was rolling his eyes.   
  
"Yeah, because you can't smell it" he grumbles.   
  
Stiles had been surprised by everyone's responses, but no one’s more so than Boyd's.   
  
"Haven't you always been dating?"  
  
Even Derek had chuckled at that. After that they'd all dropped it, save for the gentle ribbing of course, which came mostly from Erica, and which they were still suffering from nearly a month later.   
  
  
Of corse he'd sat down one to one with Scott later that week. They'd eaten pizza and played Zombies and Stiles had carefully broached the subject. He'd been most worried about Scott's reaction, naturally, but he needn't have been.   
  
"Well I mean, obviously I’d rather you dated someone a bit more... like Danny or something. But your you, you were never going to! And, y'know…" he blushes a little, stuffing almost a whole slice of pepperoni passion into his mouth in one go, chewing it loudly before continuing. "I see the way he looks at you. It's obvious.. I mean, he really likes you. So just, be careful, okay? He's still Derek"  
  
Stiles had just smiled at him dopily. He couldn't begin to express how happy he was to get his best friends blessing, so he got the new high score under Scott's log in and they called it quits.   
  
  
_ A black blur crossing the screen startles him out of his daydream as Derek passes his webcam.   
  
"What does your dad drink?"  
  
"Er, I dunno, whiskey mostly" Stiles shrugs, popping the end of his biro between his teeth and chewing, watching Derek as he drops down onto his bed and glares at Stiles through Skype. Stiles thinks he looks so cute.  
  
"Wine Stiles, I meant what wine does your dad drink?"  
  
“Err” Stiles thinks. “He never really drinks wine" he shrugs. “What difference does it make?”  
  
"You can't turn up to a meal at someone's house with a bottle of Jack Daniels!"  
  
Stiles scowls at Derek's retreating figure as he wanders out of his bedroom, before turning over his homework. He has to get this done. Focus Stiles, focus.   
The clock on the walk makes it 5:45, leaving him only forty five minutes to finish his homework, shower, get ready and give his dad the pep-talk.   
He begins  scribbling down notes about meiosis and mitosis and their difference, because that will be such useful knowledge for his adult life, before a knock on his door startles him.   
  
"Er, come in!" He calls, slamming his laptop shut and pulling his homework towards himself.   
  
The sheriff peers around his door, eyes scanning the room briefly before landing on Stiles. "You nearly done?" he asks with a weak smile.  
  
Stiles looks down. Five questions left. He shrugs.   
  
"Yeah. Nearly"  
  
His dad nods, lingering in the doorway and Stiles knows he has something else to say.   
  
He sighs "What?" leaning back in his computer chair and raising his eyebrows at his father, tapping his pen against his desk.   
  
He hesitates. "Er, anything I should er... know?"  
  
That’s when Stiles relaxes a little, suddenly feeling a little guilty as he notices his dads actually nervous, his knuckles white as he holds the edge of his door a little too tight, and all his resentment towards the evening evaporates.   
To be fair, his dad had been pretty good about the whole thing. Given, he didn't realise Derek was the person in question but...  
  
He'd finally called Stiles out on it two weeks ago.   
  
_"I'm off now, don't wait up!" Stiles had yelled, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and grabbing the keys to his Jeep of the hook by the door._

_“Wait Stiles” his dads came from deep in the house and Stiles froze because that wasn’t a ‘Did you save me any pizza?’ or ‘Are you wearing a clean shirt’. It was a ‘We need to talk’. A talk-talk. A ‘Stiles you haven’t eaten in two days’, ‘Stiles your therapist is worried about you’. ’Stiles, I’m worried about you’._

_Stiles froze, letting his hand fall from the door handle. “Er, what’s up dad?” He asked, voice wavering and betraying his anxiety as his dad appeared at the end of the hall._

_“You wanna grab a seat a second son” he nodded at the open kitchen door._

_Reluctantly, and with a longing look at the front door, at freedom, Stiles had sloped through into the kitchen and dropped heavily into one of the stool at the breakfast bar._

_“I just wants to know where you’d be staying tonight?” his father asks, all faux-casualness as he plucks a beer from the fridge and pops the top._

_“Er, Scott’s” Stiles shrugged, nervous heat crept up his neck. He lies to werewolves. He can lie to his dad. But it’s not that, it’s that he had had no real desire to le to his dad._

_The sheriff set his beer down, after a long sip. He raised both his eyebrows. “Stiles” his voice was warning and Stiles throat closed up. He sighed. “No? Okay, that’s funny. How many times in the last three weeks have you told me you were staying at Scott’s?”_

_“Um,” Stiles pulled the sleeves of his hoody over his hands nervously. “5 or…6… maybe 9”_

_“Yeah. Nine. So when I bumped into Melissa at the store the other day I naturally I felt obliged to… apologise. At least off her some money for food because, I know what you two are like…”_

_Stiles swallowed. He’d known what was coming and had been cringing._

_“She was so confused. She was under the impression Scott had been staying with us. Weird huh?” The sheriff picks up his bottle and drinks, giving Stiles a moment to decide his next step. “Care to explain?”_

_Pulling at a loose thread poking out of his left cuff, Stiles stared hard at the floor, but words were escaping him._

_“Stiles, you’ve been lying to me for nearly a month. I want an explanation. If you’ve been getting into troub-“_

_“I’m seeing soemone” Stiles had blurted out by complete accident. Both him and his father look shocked. The sheriff gaped. It was pretty priceless but Stiles hadn’t really been able to enjoy it, giving the situation._

_“You.. what?”_

_“I’m seeing someone” Stiles repeated much quieter, cheeks now burning bright red._

_A short silence had stretched out until Stiles braved a look at his father who looked more than a little shocked. Stiles folded his arms across his chest indignantly. “Well don’t look too surprised. I know its pretty shocking, fucked up little Stiles Stilinski, found someone who actually might_ like _him but yeah dad. It’s happened, so” he threw his arms in the air and glared._

_The sheriff recovered after that. “I didn’t, it’s not that. Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_Stiles shrugged. “I dunno. I just, I didn’t wanna jinx it. It’s still kinda.. new”_

_“New? Stiles, Melissa said you’ve stayed their three times in the last month. That means you’ve stayed at this girls house at least six times! That’s not new. That’s serious. I want to meet her”_

_Stiles cringed all over again. He was dating. Strike one. It was a guy. Strike two. It’s Derek Hale. Strike three and you’re out._

_“Er, not… not yet dad. Please” Stiles did his best puppy dog face but okay he’d been lying to his dad pretty hard for a while so that was not gonna work this time._

_“No. You’ve been staying at her house. I want to meet her”_

_Stiles had actually closed his eye. His heart was hammering in his chest, because oh my god he was actually gonna say this. There was no going back. He hadn’t even taken time to really think about this and now he was going to tell his dad and he had been sure his dad would be fine about it but there was always that tiny chance…  
Yeah. He’d been freaking out._

_“It’s a guy”_

_He waited for his dad to say something but there had just been silence. When he finally opened his eyes his dad had been looking at him levelly._

_“A… guy?”_

_Stiles nodded._

_“Well that’s… a guy? Okay. Well, that doesn’t change anything…” his dad tried but he hadn’t sounded quite sure._

_“I know it shouldn’t but it is new for both of us. I mean, I’ve known him for… a couple years. And, we’re pretty sure about… us. But neither of us have dated guys before and we’re just… I don’t wanna rush him into advertising it and…”_

_“I’m hardly asking you to advertise it-“ his dad had begun but with less conviction._

_“Please dad. You can meet him. Just, not quite yet. Soon, I swear, but please”_

_The sheriff sighed. “Okay” he said slowly. Stiles head snapped up but his dad held out his hands before he’d gotten away with himself. “I still want to meet him. But in your own time. Fine. But until then you will not be staying at his. 11:30 curfew.”_

_“Ele- what about if Istay at Sco-“_

_“No”_

_“Even if Melis-“_

_“No.”_

_“But eleven thirty dad that’s so early”_

_“Fine. Midnight. But I mean it Stiles. No more funny business and no more lying. I won’t let you off so easily again”_

_“Okay. Thanks dad, you’re the best” Stiles slid from his stool and without even thinking he was wrapping his arms around his dad’s neck, squeezing him tight, because he was the best._

_  
_Stiles gulped. “Like what?”

The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I dunno. Just don’t want any… surprises”

Stiles almost wanted to laugh. Derek was exactly what he would call a ‘surprise’. 

“Er, I think you may be a little… just, brace yourself dad, okay? And don’t… don’t jump to anything. He’s… not what he seems. That’s to say, he’s great. Really great. And he really like me and he treats me well so just don’t… overreact”

“Oh god, now I’m really worried!” his dad worried. Yeah, he hadn’t explained that so well.

“I just mean. He’s a little older okay?”

“I guess it’ll have to be”

By the time his dad has gone and Stiles had scribbled out the answers to the rest of his biology homework and switched his laptop back on Derek was in a whole new outfit; grey suit trousers and a black shirt, unbuttoned just a little too far, sleeves rolled up. Stiles was salivating.

“You look… wow. Let’s just, skip dinner, go straight to dessert huh?”

Derek glares and rolls his eyes but maybe blushes just a little. “Shut up. Too formal?” he stands back, holding his arms out a little to give Stiles a better view.

“Spin” 

He turns slowly which, okay no, because his ass in those trousers…

Stiles shakes his head. “Holy sh- I gotta go. Don’t be late! Dad doesn’t forgive tardiness!” he calls slamming the laptop shut because if they’d carried on like that it would have ended in one of his favourite new pass times for the nights he couldn’t stay at Derek’s (which had been the last fortnight nearly). It started with Derek fully clothes and ended ten minutes later with him completely and that was all he was gonna say on that.

He didn’t even have time for a tactical wank in the shower, he literally jumped in, washed and jumped out. He’d already lain out an outfit, smart black jeans and a soft navy shirt, which saved him time having to decide then. He knew no matter what he wore he wouldn’t compare to Derek, but at the same time he knew that no matter what he wore Derek would still want to be with him.

It was 6:20 when he jogged down the stairs, clean, fresh, well pressed, homework done, nervous as hell. But not, apparently, as nervous as his father. Who still didn’t realise his underage sons boyfriend was Derek- werewolf, almost convicted for murder, 24 years old, no social skills –Hale.

“Alright dad?” he asks, actually a little worried by his father’s erratic behaviour. The Sheriff was whipping around the kitchen, digging through the drawers.

“I can’t find the menu for the indian!”

“That’s okay”

“So pizza or Chinese?”

“Yeah, either will be fine. Look, stop worrying Dad. I… everything’s gonna be fine. D- he doesn’t care about the food, he wants to meet you officially and, I just, I hope you’ll get along. You… you’re pretty similar. I, you might butt heads a little, I..-“

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

  
The doorbell cuts through the silence and they freeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post last part asap :)


	13. Fin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of the draft of the final chapter that I never really wrote. The fact that people seem to maybe still read this made me decide posting this was better than nothing. Don't expect much, it's just a little epilogue.

The doorbell cuts through the silence and suddenly both Stiles and the Sheriff are buzzing to life, Stiles patting his dad on the back in one last show of support and heading for the door. He doesn’t realise he’s clenching and unclenching his hands to try and relieve some of the tension. Behind him his dad is setting the menus down by each place setting like they were at a restaurant. He’s even found a pad and pen to take their orders. He knows that yes, traditionally he should cook but he doesn’t want to frighten Stiles date off. He’s under no illusion about the quality of his cooking.

Stiles fumble’s with the lock a moment before he’s able to release it and pull the door open.

“Hey” he smiles, reaching up on his tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to Derek’s lips. The werewolf actually jumps. God, you wouldn’t have thought Stiles would be the calm one here! “You ready?” he smiles goofily up at his extra-tense boyfriend who grunts in reply. “Come on, it’ll be fine. He’s more nervous than you! Possibly!” Stiles jokes to try an lighten the mood but doesn’t miss Derek grimace. He steps back into the house, reaching back carefully for Derek’s bigger, always warm hand, giving it a little reassuring squeeze.

The sheriff’s re-organising the take out menus when they enter the kitchen. He looks up, eyes zooming straight for Derek, and freezes. Stiles waits with baited breath as the sheriff’s faces runs through a colourful display of expressions before landing on confused.

“Hale?” he says finally, the inflection at the end making it sound like a question. Perhaps intentionally, perhaps not.

“Er, hello, sir. Sheriff” Derek tumbles over his words, tripping out from behind Stiles and going for a handshake, thwarted by the fact he has a bottle of wine in his hand. An Arriviste Rosé from Blackbird vineyards. Local. Pricey.

“Ha-…” his dad finally looks back to Stiles. “Hale? Hale is your… you’re… Derek?”

Derek’s hand with the wine wavers, and falls to his side. Stiles sighs, grabbing the wine, passing his dad and putting it on the counter. “Yes dad, Hale is my Derek, Derek is my boyfriend. Don’t act so surprised. It’s hardly shocking, considering everything we’ve been through together these last few years.” Stiles snaps. He knows, well, hopes, his dad is gonna be fine about this, after the initial freak out, and he’s so ready just to get to that bit.

“But… how old is he?”

Awkward silence.

“I’m 24 sir, but me an-“

“It’s fine dad. I… nothing happened for _such_ a long time but it’s just… right”

“Nothing happened for a long time? So it has happened now? You’re aware of the California state laws-“

 

Once again Stiles and Derek are waiting uncertainly for the sheriff’s reaction. Finally he sighs.

“Better crack this open then” he says, making for the bottle. Perhaps the Sheriff was making up for lost time with the wine drinking…

 

They order Chinese. Way more food than the three of them could possibly dream of eating. There’ll be enough to feed the Sheriff and Stiles for the rest of the week.

An hour and a half later they’re all sat around the breakfast bar. There’s baseball on the small kitchen tv that Derek and the sheriff are way too into but Stiles isn’t complaining because they’re _bonding_. And Stiles has nicked the last two spring rolls.

“Oh come _on!_ ” Derek hits the table a little too hard whilst his Dad drops his head in his hands.

“That was terrible! Stiles could have hit that!” the Sherriff declares and they both start laughing.

“Hey!” Stiles yells through a mouthful of noodles. Neither of them acknowledge him so he leans forward and prods Derek with his chopsticks. His boyfriend just pulls away.

It’s half ten by the time things get quiet, that’s when the sheriff yawns. “Well, I think that’s me done” he announces, draining his glass and looking over at Stiles who’s trying to ply the remote of Derek’s hands. Derek who is _giggling._ It was a sight the sheriff never expected to see. Stiles stops and looks over and Derek suddenly blushes. He jumps up and holds his hand out again for a more successful handshake.

“Okay, I’ll be off. Thank you very much Sheriff Stilinski for a wonderful night”. His voice sounds clipped and unnatural but not insincere.

A wave of sympathy for Derek surprises him. He was older than Stiles, but he was still just a kid really. He had a bad reputation but most of it founded on rumour and gossip. Hell, the things Stiles got up to, he probably owed his sons life to the guy. He takes his hand in a firm grip. “You don’t have to try and butter me up” he smiles. “It’s alright, stay until.. what you’re watching has finished”. He gestures at the TV where Stiles is still very obviously channel surfing, but no one says anything.

“Thank you Sir”

“Yes. Night Stiles”

“Night dad!”

After a moment’s pause the Sheriff turns and leaves the room. A second later they hear him climbing the stairs. It’s as if someone had lifted the lid on a pressure cooker. Stiles felt his lungs deflate as he let out a heavy breath, his spine gently relaxing as he collapses back against the sofa.

“Well, that went… surprisingly well… don’t’cha think?” Stiles looked over at Derek, afraid he might have broken. He was being awfully silent. He didn’t even think he’d been heard at first. Then Derek nodded, once, slowly. “So that’s good?”

“Yeh…”

“Well” Stiles peels himself from the couch, padding over to where Derek’s sat, he stands before him, hands on his hips and scowls. “Aren’t you happy?” he asks. A deafening silence stretches between them where Derek is staring at the floor and Stiles is staring at the top of his boyfriends head. He tries to swallow a sudden jolt of nervousness that Derek could still change his mind at any time. What if it he had simply wanted it to go well so bad that he’d imagined it had, when really it had been awful. What if-

Derek looks up, the corner of his mouth tugging into a sort of lopsided smile. Anyone else might see it as a grimace but Stiles knew better. “I am” It was a massive admission, they both knew. Derek was happy. At least in this moment anyway. Derek was happy and Stiles was kind of maybe the reason why. He reached out, taking both of Stiles hands, and gently but firmly pulled him down onto his lap. “I am happy” he repeats, pulling him closer still, so close their lips brush. “ _Thank you_ ” he whispers.


End file.
